


It Had To Be You (AKA When Chris Met Zach...)

by babykid528, thatmysticbafflingwonder (babykid528)



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Multi, Multiple Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 10:15:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5244563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykid528/pseuds/babykid528, https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykid528/pseuds/thatmysticbafflingwonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Queer guys can never really be friends... the sex is always out there, it's always in the way."</i> That's what Zach tells Chris the first time they meet, but Fate has other ideas. Throughout their adult lives, Chris and Zach meet a number of times until, one day, they actually do become friends. </p><p>The question then becomes: <i>Can two friends sleep together and still love each other in the morning?</i> </p><p>Chris and Zach are about to find out.</p><p>[When Harry Met Sally AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Say Po-Tay-To, I say Po-Tah-To

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jenlynn820](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenlynn820/gifts).



> **Acknowledgements:** ALL the thanks in the world to Semper, Loves-Pie, and Pine-Farr (aka jenlynn820)!!! They did some spectacular hand-holding throughout the writing process for this fic, plus Semper and Loves-Pie also alpha/beta read this beast. They are both rockstars AND angels, as far as I'm concerned!  <333
> 
> Also, Pine-Farr gets an extra bit of acknowledgement, because my discussions with her forever ago are what sparked the idea for this to begin with. So this is dedicated to you, bb! *HUGS*
> 
> SUPER SPECIAL LOVE AND THANKS TO [spocktome](http://spocktome.tumblr.com/) (AKA Thurr... AKA Joe :-D) FOR BEING THE BEST ARTIST!!! Check out the accompanying drawings of various scenes from the fic [[HERE](http://alotofcrap.tumblr.com/post/133628189866/i-decided-to-participate-this-year-in-the-pinto)] and [[HERE](http://alotofcrap.tumblr.com/post/133628196286/when-chris-meet-zach-extras)]!!! (I'm so thrilled I got the chance to work with you, bb! <333)

Chris is exhausted, fighting off the last stubborn clutches of a two-day-old hangover, and all he can think about is how good his bed would be right now. Too bad his bed is twenty hours away.

_*BEEP BEEP*_

He lays on the horn of his old, shitty sedan, and watches as two figures scramble behind the curtains in the house he is parked in front of.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jay says as he stumbles out of the front door, weighed down with luggage. “Can you pop the trunk?”

“Yeah, man,” Chris says.

It is an acceptance of his apology as well as an answer to his question. He pulls the trunk release lever and sits back in his seat. He watches Jay in the rearview mirror as he fills the remaining space in the trunk.

Jay and Chris had met the first semester of college. They’d been into baseball and theater, and they’d bonded quickly over both. Now, four and a half years later, they are still good friends. Such good friends, that they go on group vacations together. That’s why they are both in Cabo. They’d spent the last week hanging out with a bunch of their guy friends, having a fun, debauched time. Jay had decided last minute to stay on for another week after the party was over though and Chris needed to be back in LA for work. Jay’s friend, Zach, had needed to head back too. So, Jay had asked Chris if he would mind giving him a ride, assuring Chris that Zach lived in the same neighborhood and everything. Chris had readily agreed to help him out. That’s what friends were for, after all.

He just hadn’t counted on still feeling like death after all that drinking. And he hadn’t counted on Jay and Zach taking so long to get their shit together so he and Zach could leave.

Jay stands up from behind the car and closes the trunk with a swift thud before calling out Zach’s name.

A tall, lanky guy with dark hair, a dark mess of a beard, and warm, brown eyes comes bursting out of the house then, face red and hair a mess.

“I’ve got one more,” he calls out, waving a backpack in the air.

“It’s gonna have to go in the backseat, baby,” Jay says. “There’s no more room in the trunk.”

Chris notes the way Zach grins at the term of endearment and he fights the urge to roll his eyes at the sheer sappiness of it all.

Early on in their friendship, Jay had come out to Chris as gay. Chris, being bisexual himself, had zero problems with Jay’s orientation. It was one of the reasons they got along so easily. Chris had met plenty of Jay’s boyfriends and one-night-stands through the years. Jay, however, had been reluctant to label his relationship with Zach. He’d very firmly referred to them as friends, with the prefix ‘just’ heavily implied.

Now, though, as Zach reaches the car, drops his bag to the ground, and takes Jay’s face in his hands, there’s no doubt in Chris’ mind that the friends line has been officially crossed and left behind them.

Zach leans in and kisses Jay. The kiss is deep enough to make Jay moan into it before he pulls Zach in close.

Chris rolls his eyes again, watching the dashboard clock as the minutes tick by, while his stupid friend and his stupid friend’s boyfriend make out like two randy teenagers. When one of them presses the other up against the car, finally, shaking the vehicle itself and drawing a grunt from the other, Chris lays on the horn again.

_*BEEEEEP*_

He watches them in the side mirror as they startle and blush before he calls out a falsely sincere apology as they both straighten out their clothes and calm themselves down from the fright.

Zach retrieves his bag from the ground, then, and tosses it into the back seat through the open window of the car before turning to Jay one more time.

“I’ll miss you,” Jay says, caressing Zach’s cheek with the pads of his fingers. “Get home safe.”

Zach nods. “We will.”

They share one last kiss before Zach reluctantly pulls away, moves around the car, and get into the passenger seat.

“Good morning, Chris,” he says, friendly and far too joyful for the early hour. His lack of hangover manages to make Chris even more annoyed.

“Drive safely, guys,” Jay says, leaning down to be seen through Chris’ window. “Let me know when you get home, okay?”

“I’ll call as soon as I get there,” Zach promises.

Jay nods but seems to frown.

“And I’ll keep you updated from the road,” Zach promises, holding up his crappy flip cellphone.

Jay grins and Chris worries for a moment that they might lunge at one another and try to make out while he’s trapped between them.

“All right, Jay,” Chris says. “I’ll see you soon.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, just pulls away from the house and watches Jay give a little wave in the rearview mirror as they drive off.

He settles a little in his seat, welcoming the new silence, as Jay shrinks out of view.

“There are maps in the glove compartment,” Chris says after a few moments. “I marked them with places where we can stop and switch spots so we can break up the trip into shifts. That way we share the driving and neither one of us should get overtired.”

Zach hums, nodding at the glove compartment but not opening it.

He pulls out a bag of sunflower seeds from his pocket and offers them to Chris.

“Do you want some?” he asks.

Chris is, truth-be-told, starving at the best of times. The sunflower seed bag looks like it’s seen better days, though, and he’s really looking forward to grabbing a giant coffee and a pastry at this little joint thirty minutes up the road.

“I’m okay for now, thanks,” he says.

Zach gives a little shrug, pops a few seeds into his mouth, and starts crunching away. He turns his head and spits out the shells a second later before Chris even realizes what he’s doing. They hit the window and bounce back at him.

Chris sighs.

Zach has the good grace to blush.

“I closed the windows and put the air conditioner on when we pulled away from the curb,” Chris explains.

Zach ducks his head.

“I’ll just open the windows again,” Chris says.

He switches the AC off and opens the windows, thankful that the wind does leech away most of the sun’s heat.

They sit in silence then, Zach eating his sunflower seeds and Chris concentrating on not developing a migraine, until they reach the coffee stop. Only once Chris is all caffeinated and full of baked goods does Zach ventures to speak to him again.

“So,” he begins as Chris pulls out of the parking lot. “What’s your life story?”

Chris wrinkles his nose and takes another sip of coffee.

“There’s not much to tell,” he says. “I’m your average struggling actor, aka barista, living in LA. I’m still trying to find my big break.”

Zach hums in reply.

“What about you?” Chris asks. It’s the polite thing to do and, now that he’s got caffeine, he’s more willing to be polite.

“Basically the same,” Zach says. “Minus the barista thing. I’m doing retail right now and living with my brother. I’m sure he can’t wait for me to actually land an acting job bigger than a Surge commercial.”

“Commercials are pretty big,” Chris points out.

Zach waves him off.

“I just want to be on stage,” he sighs. “Become great enough that I’m secure, financially, and I can take on the risky roles without worrying about making ends meet.”

Chris bites back a snort. Zach must catch it anyway. He narrows his eyes and shoots Chris a glare.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Chris says, “It’s just, most actors don’t make it beyond small TV appearances and commercials. Voice-acting, if you’re lucky, sure, but the small things are the meat and potatoes.”

Chris grew up in this business, not that Zach has any reason to know that, nor does Chris feel any reason to tell him. He knows firsthand what his father went through, working whatever role he could get to keep going. His mom switched careers, not just because acting wasn’t what she wanted to do, but because it wasn’t practical to do. It’s just a sad truth of the business, one Chris was born recognizing. Zach, apparently, hasn’t had the same experiences.

Zach purses his lips and stares at Chris for a few moments before replying, “Jay said you were a bit of a nihilist.”

That brings a scowl to Chris’ own face.

“He did, did he?” Chris asks.

He catches Zach nodding out of the corner of his eye.

“Well,” Chris says, but he ends it there.

“Well,” Zach echoes before silence fills the car around them.

* * *

 

“You’re fucking crazy!” Zach yells a few hours later as he pulls the car off the main road to find a place for lunch.

“No, I’m pretty sure you are,” Chris replies a little more evenly.

Zach scoffs.

“There’s no fucking way choosing to live life without Jack is better than both Rose and Jack choosing to die together at the end of Titanic,” Zach says.

Chris lets out a bark of incredulous laughter.

“Well,” he begins. “First of all, we wouldn’t have a goddamn movie if Rose had died after the ship went down. That’s the whole fucking point. Secondly, he was sacrificing himself so she could live. How fucking insulting would it be for that sacrifice to be thrown in Jack’s face? Rose had a full life ahead of her, one Jack valued over his own life, and that’s what the whole thing is about, isn’t it? Self-sacrifice in the name of the one who matters most.”

“So, by that rationale, Rose didn’t value Jack’s life more than her own,” Zach says carefully.

Chris shrugs. “She stayed on the door, didn’t she?”

Zach growls in frustration. “Seriously??? You’re saying it would be insulting for her to drown with him, but it’s insulting that she doesn’t drown instead of him. Which would also be insulting because he’s offering his life for her??? You’re going in circles!”

Chris shrugs again. “It’s a fucking no-win scenario.”

Zach’s laugh is bitter.

“I don’t believe in no-win scenarios,” he says.

Chris laughs. There’s actually mirth behind the sound too. It catches Zach off guard.

“What’s the real issue here, Zach?” Chris finally asks. “That life is messy and there’s no right way in that kind of tragic situation, or the fact that Jack and Rose could’ve been the 90’s new Romeo and Juliet, if they’d only gotten the ending right?”

Zach sighs, the anger leeching out of him.

“He abandons her,” Zach replies, voice heavy with unsaid things, as they pull into the parking lot of the nearest taqueria. “He leaves her alone and empty and _that_ life is somehow better for everyone in the end?”

Chris lets that hang between them for a moment before carefully replying, “It’s not lonely or empty though. She lives a life that she makes for herself, she has a family, she loves them, they love her, and, in the end, she is reunited with Jack anyway.”

“You’re just completely wrong,” Zach swears as he parks.

“Fine.” Chris tosses his hands up. “Rose picking life over death is obviously wrong.”

Zach shakes his head and exits the car, walking toward the taqueria’s front door.

“Do you walk away from all of your arguments?” Chris asks when gets out of the car and follows.

Zach huffs and spins around to face him.

“I’m not walking away, I’m going to get lunch,” he says. “And, besides, it’s obvious what your problem is now, so I’m done arguing.”

Chris’ eyebrows arch up his forehead.

“And what is my problem, exactly?” he asks.

Zach growls a little, obviously frustrated to the extreme.

“You’ve clearly never been in love before,” Zach whispers angrily before turning away from Chris to enter the restaurant.

Chris is stopped in his tracks, rendered speechless for a moment, before he’s stalking in after Zach and declaring, “I absolutely have been in love.”

All eyes in the place turn toward him. Chris can feel them all boring into him as he blushes hard. He takes a deep, fortifying breath, before joining Zach in line at the counter.

After a beat of silence, everyone goes back to their own thing and Zach leans into Chris, stage-whispering, “So who is the lucky lady who captured your heart?”

Chris sighs.

“If you must know, her name was Deirdre Love.”

Zach blinks at him, owlishly, before making a loud, game show buzzer sound and saying, with a shake of his head, “I’m sorry, you were not in love with a woman with a porn star name.”

“Oh my God,” Chris sighs. “First of all, that’s way fucking judgmental, assuming she’s a) a porn star based off her name, and b) assuming porn stars can’t experience love?”

Zach rolls his eyes at that.

“You’re being a little slut-shamey here,” Chris says.

Zach brushes it off but Chris sees him blush.

“Fine, sorry,” Zach says. “Keep explaining this great love thing to me.”

“Well, first of all,” Chris says, “we were in eleventh grade and she was my date to junior prom… And she was the first girl I’d ever kissed.”

Chris shakes off the happy nostalgia long enough to realize Zach is gaping at him.

“You haven’t loved another person in almost a decade?” he asks.

Chris blushes this time.

“Umm, I didn’t say that…”

“You just didn’t love anyone like her?” Zach asks.

“No, I mean,” he stumbles over his reply. “There was someone since, but Deirdre was important.”

“The woman since wasn’t?” Zach asks.

Chris sputters, trying to fight off embarrassment and panic. Zach turns to the counter to order his food, graciously giving him a moment to try to pull himself together.

He waits until they’re both seated with their heavy plates before he asks Chris again, “So, why don’t you talk about the woman you loved since Deirdre?”

Chris’ heart is beating a mile a minute, but he’s going to be stuck with Zach for at least sixteen more hours, and if things go well between Jay and Zach, Chris could be stuck with him for a lot longer, technically. He makes the executive decision to throw caution to the wind and just come clean.

“He wasn’t a woman,” he says. “He was a guy. Because I’m bisexual and I fall in love with men sometimes.”

Zach looks well and truly gobsmacked. Chris takes advantage of the moment to take a bite of one of his tacos.

“What was his name?” Zach asks, voice softer now.

When Chris looks at him again, he can see a slight blush coloring Zach’s cheeks, and everything about him suddenly seems softer, not just his voice.

“His name was Paul,” Chris admits.

He’s admitted that relationship to exactly two other people in his life: his sister, Katie, and Jay. It feels weird bringing Zach into The Know, making him part of such an intimate circle of people, when he’s only just met him.

“What happened with him?” Zach asks, tone cautious.

Chris sighs and sags with an exhaustion he didn’t know he still felt over the whole Paul situation.

“Two things,” he says. “First, Paul wasn’t exactly cool about me being bisexual. He always thought I’d have some big gay revelation when we were together, like he could fuck the attraction to other genders out of me. Which was irritating, to say the least.”

Zach hums around a bite of his own food.

“And secondly, he didn’t like that I’m closeted, so he fucked around behind my back,” Chris says.

It’s the first time he’s ever put that truth so bluntly. He can see the way it stings Zach to hear it, and he can feel the telltale prickle at the backs of his eyes proving to himself that he’s still not over realizing it. It was a betrayal, even if Chris’ own fears were keeping them in a place Paul couldn’t bear to be in any longer. Paul had never deserved the love and care Chris put into the relationship, not when he acted so callously about Chris’ own boundaries. Chris had still given everything he could, even if it wasn’t enough. He’d loved the guy, and though they were at very different stages in their life, with very different personalities, that still stung to remember.

“I’m sorry,” Zach says, voice somehow even quieter than before.

Chris gives him a thankful look and a short little nod before they both turn back to their food and tuck in.

When they’re finishing up, Chris can feel Zach staring, his gaze like a caress. He looks up and meets his eyes and scrunches his forehead at the strange look on Zach’s face.

“What’s going on?” he asks. “Oh God, do I have something on my face?” Chris frantically wipes at his mouth and chin, but finds nothing.

“No, nothing’s on your face,” Zach says, voice a slow drawl compared to the high-pitched yelling he was doing earlier.

“Then what’s up?” Chris asks again.

Zach shrugs. “You’re just incredibly attractive.”

Chris stares, blinking at him. “Ummm… thanks?” he says. It comes out sounding like a question.

“I’m kind of surprised Jay never mentioned how attractive you are,” Zach says.

Chris stands to leave. “Jay probably doesn’t think I’m attractive.”

“No, you’re kind of undeniably hot, Chris,” Zach assures him.

His voice is pitched a little lower when he speaks that time. Chris glances over at him, suspicious of the sudden change in tone, and catches Zach staring at his ass like a hungry predator who’s just sighted his next meal.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Chris hisses before stalking out of the restaurant.

“What?” Zach asks, voice innocent as they head back toward the car.

“What?” Chris yelps. “You are hitting on me right now!”

Zach shrugs, not bothering to deny it. “So?”

“So?!” Chris says, “You’re hitting on me and you’re with Jay!”

Zach waves him off.

“Jay and I aren’t even exclusive,” he says.

“Oh my fucking God,” Chris groans, tossing his arms up into the air.

They do a strange little dance then as Zach stalks closer and Chris tries to avoid him. They end up at opposite sides of the car, looking at one another over the hood.

“It’s not gonna happen, Zach,” Chris swears.

Zach gives him a searching look before nodding.

“Okay, fine,” he says.

Chris gives a nod too, and then they both get into the car, Chris driving once again. He’s impressed with the restraint Zach shows as he manages to keep his mouth shut about it going forward.

At least, he manages to keep his mouth shut about it until the sun begins to set for the day while Zach takes his turn driving again.

“Let’s get a motel for the night,” he suggests, motive obviously impure.

Chris rubs his face in the passenger seat. “You couldn’t just let it go, could you.”

“I really couldn’t,” Zach confirms.

Chris snorts out a laugh, despite himself, and chases it with another sigh. Zach has him sighing a lot.

“We’re just going to be friends, Zach,” Chris says. _If that_. He leaves off the last part, despite his frustration.

“Friends,” Zach repeats. “Friends it is.”

Chris has never been so thankful to have someone acquiesce to him before.

“Of course, you know,” Zach says a few moments later, “queer guys can never really be _friends_.”

Chris is thankful he’s not driving at the moment. He would have swerved off the road at that statement.

“That’s fucking bullshit, of course they can be,” Chris says. “I have plenty of other queer, male friends.”

Zach shakes his head, gesturing like an overzealous professor with one hand while he steers the car with the other.

“You can’t be friends because the sex is always out there, it’s always in the way,” Zach tells him.

“Are you saying I’m having sex with these people even though I don’t realize it?” Chris deadpans.

“No no no,” Zach says. “Of course not. What I’m saying is the sex thing is _out there_. They’ve thought about it, maybe you’ve thought about it, and, come on, let’s be real, you’re kind of an Adonis, in your own All-American way, so there’s no way they ever stop thinking about it. So the sex thing is always an issue then. They always want to fuck you, Chris. And that precludes any true friendship from really being formed in the first place.”

Chris can’t tell right now if that’s the most profound piece of shit he’s ever heard, or if Zach may actually be onto something. He takes a few minutes to just mull it over in his head before he finally says, “Well, I guess we won’t be friends then.”

“Nope,” Zach agrees.

“That’s too bad,” Chris says. “We live so close together, we could have had some fun.”

Zach doesn’t answer, just keeps driving, and Chris feels oddly at a loss.

They take turns driving and sleeping for the rest of the trip. It helps control the level of awkward between them now, the lack of talking. It’s not until Chris reaches Zach’s apartment building and drops him off that, finally, the awkwardness between them flares to full strength.

“Well, uh, thanks,” Zach says, shifting on his feet on the sidewalk, surrounded by his bags.

“Yeah, no problem,” Chris tells him.

They can’t make eye contact for very long, but they both keep trying. It’s all kinds of weird.

“I guess I’ll see you when I see you,” Zach says.

Chris nods.

“Yeah, sure thing,” he says.

“Okay.”

Zach shifts on his feet again.

“Take care, man,” he says, waving Chris away.

Chris watches him in the rear view mirror, a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, as he leaves him behind.


	2. We Looked At Each Other In the Same Way Then

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Chris/Beau and Zach/OMC within.

Chris pulls Beau in a little closer to him as they continue to kiss. The bustle of LAX continues on around them, but, for the moment, it’s as if no one else matters. She grips her deceptively strong fingers a little tighter into his back and almost purrs when he tightens his fingers in her hair.

Then Chris catches someone out of the corner of his eye, and just like that, he’s distracted enough to pull back.

“Wha-” Beau starts to ask, but trails off, finally following Chris’s gaze to the guy standing a few feet away.

“Zach?” she asks.

“Beau?” the guy says in return.

He’s tall, skinny, all long dark hair and fresh-shaved face. He looks like he could be a model, and Chris thinks maybe that’s how Beau knows him.

“Hi,” she says to him, grinning wide and beautiful. Chris wishes he could kiss her again, but he knows that would be rude.

“I thought it was you,” Zach says. “I was walking by and I just had to stop and be sure.”

He shoots Chris a kind of odd look then before averting his eyes back to Beau and smiling. That smile is completely disarming and vaguely familiar.

“Uh…” Chris gapes.

“Oh, Chris,” Beau says, remembering he’s there. “I’m sorry. This is Zach Quinto. He did an ad campaign with me a few years ago and was the sweetest guy on the set. Zach, this is Chris Pine.”

Between hearing Zach’s full name and seeing the guy blush at Beau’s words, Chris is suddenly flooded with the memory of a long car trip with an insufferable passenger he never met again. He can feel his own face heating, embarrassed that he didn’t recognize the guy immediately.

“Hi,” Zach says before asking Beau, “Are you still doing only print ads?”

“No, no,” she tells him. “I’m doing video as well now, and some runway work. It’s been a good year actually.”

“That’s great,” he says, full of sincerity.

“What about you?” she asks. “Are you still doing ads, or did you move on to bigger and better things?”

“I’m actually doing a regular TV role at the moment,” he says, grinning wide and proud. “And I’m about to start another.”

“That’s incredible,” Beau says. “Congratulations!”

“Yeah, man,” Chris chimes in, voice still quiet. “That’s really great.”

“Thanks,” Zach says, nodding. He shoots Chris another searching look, like he hasn’t figured out where he knows him from just yet, and then he blurts out, “Well, I have to go catch a flight, so I better head out. It was nice to see you, Beau.”

“Yeah, it was nice to see you too, Zach.”

And with a little wave, he’s gone.

“Thank God he couldn’t place me,” Chris says on a sigh. “I drove from Cabo back to Silverlake with that guy a few years ago and it was the longest day of my life.”

“What happened?” Beau asked, confused.

“He argued with me for most of the twenty-hour car ride and then,” Chris says, “and this I remember vividly, he said we could never be friends.”

Beau looks incredulous.

“What? Why?” she asks.

Chris gives her a searching look before shaking his head. He’s been dating Beau for about a month, but he’s still closeted and Beau has no idea. He’s not about to admit to it now, just to explain Zach’s theory about queer guys not being able to be friends. So he lies.

“He was just a ridiculous guy and I was trapped with him for far too long.”

She seems assuaged by that answer, even though Chris feels like it’s obvious, from his face, that something more went on. She lets the things he’s not saying slide, and instead, presses in a little closer to him and leaves a chaste kiss on his chin.

“Let’s forget about him then,” she says. “Why don’t you kiss me goodbye once more before you have to board your flight?”

Chris grins at her and complies with her wishes, secretly grateful for the conversation ending.

* * *

 

When Chris boards his plane, he’s both shocked and completely not shocked to find Zach sitting in the seat next to his.

“The fucking odds,” he whispers under his breath before sliding his carry-on in the overhead compartment and taking the empty seat.

“Well, hello, Chris,” Zach says, only blushing a little.

Chris shakes his head. “You have no idea where you know me from, do you?” he asks.

Zach gapes a moment, before replying honestly, “Not exactly, no.”

Chris hums, allowing himself to feel a little superior for a moment.

“Did we hook up or something?” Zach asks.

Chris’ feelings of superiority melt away into embarrassment.

“No, not at all,” he says.

Zach hums and nods. “Weird.”

“It wasn’t due to lack of trying on your behalf,” Chris promises, expression cold.

Zach breaks out into a grin and laughs.

“We drove from Cabo together a few years ago,” Chris tells him, finally.

Zach snaps his fingers and declares, “That was it! Cabo to Silverlake, and you refused to sleep with me.”

“Because you were dating my friend,” Chris says. He stops before giving the friend’s name though. His mind has completely gone blank.

“Jay?” Zach supplies, and Chris feels his face heat.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Jay Carver.”

“Carter,” Zach corrects. “You’ve obviously not kept in touch with him. Was it worth it then? Sacrificing a night of satisfying debauchery for a friend whose name you can’t even remember?”

Chris snorts before replying, “Zach, I hate to break this to you, but I never considered not sleeping with you a sacrifice.”

Zach’s grin widens and he fights back a laugh by taking a sip of the drink the flight attendant has already brought him. “Fair enough,” he says once he’s swallowed.

Chris sighs before asking, “So you’re working on TV now?”

They have a five-hour flight ahead of them from LAX to JFK. Chris may as well spend that time directing their conversation himself. He knows Zach isn’t going to let him just sit in peace.

“I am,” Zach says. “I’m doing a kind of silly thing with a friend on VH1 and I’m going to start work on a genre show soon that should be a lot of fun. The ensemble cast is amazing, actually.”

Chris nods, legitimately impressed.

“That’s amazing,” he says and congratulates Zach again.

“Thanks,” Zach replies before asking, “What have you been up to?”

“I did my first movie not long after that trip to Cabo, actually,” Chris admits. “And I’m flying into New York to do a little press junket for the new movie that just came out.”

“Wow,” Zach says, sounding genuinely impressed. “That’s really great, Chris.”

“Thanks,” Chris says, fighting back a darker blush from spreading across his cheeks.

“And you’re with Beau,” Zach adds then.

Chris narrows his eyes a little, confused at the change in subject, before he agrees, “I am with Beau.”

“For about a month, right?” Zach asks, taking another sip of his drink.

Chris stares at him a moment. “How did you know that?”

Zach tilts his head as he says, “She brought you to the airport. That’s one of those things people do at the beginning of a relationship. The kind of thing they stop doing later in the relationship that then causes their partner to wonder why they no longer bring them to the airport.”

Chris blinks as he follows that thought process through in his own head.

“Okay,” he agrees.

Zach nods. “That’s why I’ve never brought anyone to the airport at the beginning of a relationship before.”

Chris snorts out an incredulous laugh. “Never?” he asks.

Zach shakes his head slowly and confirms, “Never. I work better with less expectations to ruin.”

Chris doesn’t doubt that.

“It’s a wonder anyone ever would agree to a second date with you,” he says.

“I know,” Zach agrees. “Luckily, I’m off the market semi-permanently.”

“Semi-permanently?” Chris asks, confused.

“Yeah,” Zach clarifies, “I’m practically married.”

Chris never in a million years would have expected to hear those words leave Zach’s mouth.

“Who the hell to?” he asks. It comes out sounding a little more incredulous than Chris really should sound, but he can’t bring himself to care enough about it to modulate his tone.

“His name’s Nathan Winters,” Zach explains. “He’s a PA over at Miramax and we’ve been living together for the last two years.”

“Wow,” Chris is genuinely impressed.

“Yeah,” Zach agrees a little smugly.

“That’s really great,” Chris says.

Zach nods, raising his glass to Chris, before saying, “And it’s really great you’re with Beau.”

Chris ducks his chin to his chest, fighting off a blush. “Thanks, man,” he says.

“It’s certainly optimistic of you,” Zach says.

He just has to go and ruin the nice moment.

“What do you mean?” Chris asks. He already feels annoyed before Zach even gives his answer.

“You had such a fatalistic outlook on life the last time we saw one another,” Zach says.

Chris scoffs.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks. “I’m a fatalist because of what, exactly? Because I happened to recognize that acting isn’t all stage glamor and big breaks? Or because I didn’t sugarcoat the importance of Jack’s sacrifice at the end of Titanic?”

He reassures himself that he only remembers both conversations so clearly because of how absurd they were, not because he’s ever thought about them since.

“It’s just nice to see you’re embracing the more hopeful parts of life these days, is all I’m saying,” Zach says, attempting to backtrack and running over Chris’ toes in the process.

Chris takes a deep breath and huffs out a sigh. He closes in on himself then, wishing the flight attendant would come and bring him a new drink soon.

* * *

 

When they land, after five hours of awkward conversation and heated half-arguing, they walk side-by-side toward the baggage claim.

“Are you staying overnight?” Zach asks.

Chris nods, “Yeah.”

“Do you want to get dinner?” Zach asks. When Chris gives him a weird look he clarifies, “Just as friends.”

Chris sighs, “I thought you said queer men can’t be friends.”

“What?” Zach scoffs. “When did I say—”

He cuts himself off before nodding.

“No, that’s right,” he self-corrects. “They can’t be friends… Unless, of course, they’re both involved with other people. Then they can be friends.”

Chris takes a breath to reply, but Zach cuts him off.

“Except,” he says, “then your partner wonders why you need the friendship and if there’s something missing from the relationship you have. Because they are constantly wondering if you’re attracted to your friend, which, let’s be honest here, you probably are. So, then, no. The original rule stands. Queer guys can’t just be friends.”

Chris listens in silence, waiting for Zach to talk himself out.

“Where does that leave us on dinner?” Zach asks after a few beats of silence.

Chris rolls his eyes. “Goodbye, Zach,” he says in answer.

Zach straightens his posture and nods. “Okay, goodbye.”

They continue walking side-by-side until Chris glances over at Zach and Zach stops in his tracks. “Why don’t you go on ahead.”

Chris steps away from him, amazed at how much quieter the general bustle of the airport is without Zach’s voice chattering in his ear.


	3. They’re Writing Songs of Love – But Not For Me

Chris picks at his lunch – spreads it around his plate with his fork, really – as he listens to his two friends, Dax and Patrick, talk.

“I mean,” Dax says, “he just happened to leave his phone out and his wife texted him while he was showering, thanking him for the flowers he’d sent to her office, and telling him she couldn’t wait for their trip to the Bahamas for their wedding anniversary next week.”

“Why does any of that surprise you?” Patrick asks, taking a sip of his lemonade.

“Because he’s obviously never going to leave her,” Dax says, somehow surprised by this fact even though he’s been having an affair with this guy for two years and he hasn’t left her in all that time.

“No, he isn’t ever going to leave her,” Patrick reiterates, voice slow as he over enunciates.

He shoots Chris a wide-eyed look. They’ve been telling Dax the same thing since he started screwing this low-life. They can’t figure out exactly why Dax hasn’t let the truth sink in yet.

“You’re right, you’re right,” he says. “I know you’re right.”

It’s what he always says. Chris knows he even means it when he says it. It’s just, fifteen minutes later, he’s back to pining after the asshole and forgetting that the entire relationship is going nowhere.

“I don’t understand why you can’t find someone nice and single to fuck,” Patrick says. “Before I met Troian, I knew plenty of single people.”

“Yeah well,” Dax sighs. “It’s hard when you can’t really head to a bar or club to pick someone up.”

Dax has been clean longer than Chris has even known him. He’s vigilant about it. Patrick once said he wished he could’ve caught a glimpse of what Dax was like, back in the day. Dax had promised, expression tight and serious, that Patrick really wouldn’t have enjoyed it. They never brought it up again.

Patrick points to Chris.

“Chris managed to find someone without the help of a bar or club,” he says. “Beau’s incredible. Maybe she has a friend you could hook up with?”

Chris clears his throat and puts his fork down.

“Beau and I broke up,” he announces.

Patrick and Dax turn near-identical expressions of horror toward Chris.

“For real?” Patrick asks.

“What happened?” Dax asks.

Chris shrugs.

“We just were drifting apart for a while,” he tells them. “She moved out about a week ago.”

“A week?!” Patrick shouts.

Chris shushes him, mindful of the other restaurant patrons sitting on the patio.

“Yes, a week,” he says. “And before you ask, I’m really fine about it. The relationship had run its course. There was nowhere else for it to go.”

Patrick purses his lips and scowls a little at Chris like he’s trying to decide if he believes Chris’ claims. Dax just pulls out his phone.

“Well, then,” he says. “If you’re so over her, it’s time to find you someone new.”

Chris watches, in horror, as he scrolls through his contacts.

“Dax, come on,” Patrick says. He looks both horrified and intrigued.

“This is the way you do things,” Dax says, brushing Patrick’s weak objection aside.

Chris doesn’t know why he’s friends with either of them and he tells them as much.

“I don’t know why I’m friends with either of you,” he says.

Patrick just shakes his head and Dax rolls his eyes.

“You said you’re over her,” Dax says. “So you need to go get laid and move on.”

“I don’t want to get laid right now,” he says.

They both give him skeptical looks and Chris rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine. Who do you have in mind?”

Dax scrolls a little longer before making an _ah-ha_ sound. “I got the perfect person,” he says. “She’s hilarious, one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. You’ll love her.”

Chris waits quietly, not giving him the satisfaction of asking for the name again.

“Melissa McCarthy,” Dax says.

“Dax,” Chris says, scowling. “She’s fucking married, you idiot! You took me as your plus one to her wedding!”

“Fuck, you’re right,” he says, typing something into his phone quickly. “I completely forgot.”

Patrick laughs. “Unlike you,” he says, “Chris actually prefers his partners to be single when he meets them.”

Chris sighs, shooting Patrick a look. Patrick just gives him a wink in return.

“This really isn’t necessary,” Chris tells them both.

“No, hold up,” Dax says, refusing to be shot down. “I’ve got someone. How about Jeremy Renner?”

Chris just shakes his head. “Dax, come on,” he says. He sounds tired. “I’m really not ready for that. I’m okay with Beau being gone, but it only just happened. Give a guy some time to adjust, okay?”

Dax holds up his hand, “Okay, fine.” He puts his phone away. “But don’t end up like my mom’s second husband’s brother,” he tells Chris.

“What happened to him?” Patrick asks, voice tinged with amusement.

“He got divorced and everyone in town told him to take his time before he found someone new,” Dax says. “And then he got into a car accident and died.”

Chris stares at Dax, stuck somewhere between awe and horror. “Are you saying,” he asks, “that I should find someone else right away because I might die tomorrow?”

If he is saying that, it’s one of the most profound things Chris has ever heard coming from Dax’s mouth.

“No, not at all,” Dax assures him. “What I’m saying is you want to find someone before someone else finds them, because if you wait too long, you’ll be left sitting around, alone, wondering if someone else is married to your spouse.”

Chris continues to stare at him, unblinking.

“You speak and it’s like listening to the contents of a fortune cookie written by an incredibly confused angel of death,” Patrick says. “You know that, right?”

Dax shrugs and eats one of his fries.

* * *

 

Loud cheers fill the bar around them as Zach and Kristen nurse a couple of beers. They have a standing date to watch any and all Steelers games together, and they almost always spend that date at Jess’ Sports Bar. Her food is good and reasonably priced, and she always shows the Steelers on the big screen when they’re playing.

Zach and Kristen aren’t really watching tonight though.

“When did this happen?” Kristen asks.

“A couple of days ago,” Zach laments. He takes another sip of his beer. It’s their second one already and their food hasn’t even arrived yet. He doesn’t care though. He wants to feel as numb physically as he feels emotionally.

“How did it happen?” Kristen asks.

She prods; that’s why Zach loves her. She always gets him to talk when he needs to, especially when he thinks he’d rather not.

“I got home from the drugstore,” he tells her, “from buying new lube, of all things, and there was Nathan, sitting on the couch, TV off, just waiting for me.”

“Suspicious,” Kristen remarks.

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Zach agrees. “So I asked him what was up. He said he wanted to talk to me and he asked if I would sit down. So I did. And he’s quiet for a moment. And I’m sitting there thinking he’s dying or someone died, so I start asking if everything’s okay, if everyone we know is okay.”

“Understandably,” Kristen assures him with a nod.

“And then he goes, everyone’s fine,” Zach continues. “He’s just been thinking.”

“Ooooo,” Kristen groans.

“Exactly!” Zach exclaims, throwing his hand in the air. “So I ask him what he’s been thinking about, because I know I don’t want to know, but you know I’m much more into the band-aid approach to bad news than I am this coy, beating around the bush kind of attitude.”

“Yeah,” Kristen says, nodding vehemently.

“And he says he doesn’t think he wants to be in a monogamous relationship anymore.”

Zach lets that sink in as the waitress, Alice, drops off their food.

“Jesus,” Kristen sighs. “What did you even say to that?”

“Well, I didn’t know what to say,” he tells her. “I was so caught off guard, that I just sat there, staring like a gaping fish… and then the doorbell rings.”

“Oh my God,” Kristen says, eyes widening.

Zach nods.

“So I go and answer it, because I’m moving on autopilot at this point, and I don’t know what else to do, and there are moving men standing there.”

“You’re fucking kidding me!” Kristen shouts.

“I’m really not!” Zach replies. “So I turn to Nathan then and I ask what the hell is going on, and he tells me he’s been thinking about this for a long time, that the relationship’s just not working for him any longer, that he wants to figure out who he is on his own for a while, and he’d like us to still be friends.”

“Ouch,” she says.

“Ouch is right,” Zach agrees. “So there I am, standing listening to this guy I’ve been living with for almost five years, wondering what he could possibly need to discover alone that he didn’t need to discover five years ago, there are two completely awkward, silent moving men watching this entire scene unfold, and I think it’s the perfect time to ask, _don’t you love me anymore_?”

“Oh no…” Kristen whispers, dropping a fry back to her plate, one she’d been just about to bite into.

“Oh yeah,” Zach assures her. “I ask the unaskable question and then I wait there, expectant, as he shuffles on his feet, avoiding eye contact. The moving men are still standing there, awkward and stoic, and Nathan finally says, _I don’t know that I ever loved you_.”

How Zach manages to repeat those words without choking on the tears threatening to strangle him, he’s not sure. Kristen’s face falls completely though and she’s sliding into his side of their usual booth before he can even blink and clear his vision. She wraps him in a hug, her small frame providing more comfort than it has any right to, and he leans into her for a moment.

They just stay like that, breathing slowly together, until Zach’s stomach growls and they both decide they should eat before the food gets completely cold.

“I’m so sorry, Zach,” Kristen says after taking a bite of her veggie burger.

“Thanks, Kris,” he says, pushing his salad around his plate. “I didn’t even tell you the worst of it though.”

“What could be worse than that?” Kristen asks.

“It’s all one big lie,” Zach says, voice choked again. “The need for personal discovery, the not wanting to be monogamous, the wanting to be out on his own… I followed the goddamn moving van, like the pathetic loser that I am. He’s living with someone else. Some middle-aged producer on the show he’s been working on for the last year. He met him in the circular drive of his giant mansion. I saw them kiss.”

“Fuck, Zachary,” Kristen sighs. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“He’s been cheating on me for months, maybe longer, and I didn’t even realize,” Zach says, taking a bite of his food and not even tasting it.

Kristen shakes her head.

“They say relationships don’t fail because of infidelity, that infidelity is just a symptom that something bigger is wrong,” she says, attempting to impart some kind of wisdom in this shitty situation.

Zach just scoffs.

“Yeah, well,” he tells her. “That symptom is fucking my fiancé.”

She frowns and reaches out to hold his hand while the Steelers score a field goal and the bar around then cheers loudly.

* * *

 

“Why are you calling me?” Chris asks into his phone as he struggles to get out of this car with a coffee and car keys in one hand, and his phone in the other. He’s about twenty steps away from one of the most important film auditions of his life. He can’t believe he’s having this conversation right now.

“Because,” Dax’s whispering voice rings in his ear. “Like I already said, he left his phone out again, this time while he was cooking us dinner, and he was sexting his wife in the parking garage before he came up to my apartment.”

“Dax,” Chris stops in his tracks. “He’s never gonna leave her.” He gives Dax a moment, lets those words sink in, and listens for the sigh he knows is coming. Dax doesn’t make him wait too long.

“You’re right, you’re right,” he says. “I know you’re right.”

Chris wants to shout _Do you really???_ into the phone, but he’s going to be late if he draws this conversation out any longer, so he tells Dax he’s got to go and promises to call him later.

He’s just hanging up the phone when he enters the lobby he’s supposed to wait in. He’s not even through the door all the way before he comes face-to-face with Zachary Quinto.

Chris had known, of course he’d known, that Zach had already been cast as Spock when he’d first auditioned for the part of Kirk in this much-talked-about Star Trek Reboot. He just hadn’t let himself think about it too much, especially since he was sure Zach wouldn’t even remember him. Then, when the first audition went so poorly, he was sure he didn’t get the part, so the topic of Zach was a non-issue. Except, he’d gotten a callback. He was called in to audition for a second time. And, apparently, he was going to be seeing Zach at this one.

“Christopher Pine,” Zach says before Chris can even gauge if he’s gaping or not. Apparently the guy did remember him after all.

“Hi, Zach,” he says, struggling to find the right words.

Before either of them can say anything else, they’re both ushered into a room with the casting crew, and the film’s director himself, all waiting to see what Chris can bring to the part. Somewhere, in the back of Chris’ dumbfounded head, he knows that this is his last chance. It’s a thought he wasn’t letting himself think before he saw Zach. Now it’s all he can think about as the shock wears off.

“Hi, Chris,” the director, J.J., says, “We’re going to have you redo the scene you did for us last time, only, this time, we’re going to have you run it with Zach.”

Chris licks his lips, nervously, and takes a moment to compose himself.

“Okay,” he says.

“When you’re ready,” J.J. says with a nod, and they’re off.

Chris turns to Zach and watches as he slowly transforms into Spock before his eyes. It’s kind of magical, if Chris is being honest. And, apparently, it gives him all the bravery he needs to become James T. Kirk.

When Chris leaves the audition, Zach claps him on the shoulder and smiles so big at him, Chris is almost confident he’s got the part. Then J.J. calls Zach back and Chris is left to walk himself to his car and head on home for the rest of the night.

By the time he pulls into his driveway, he’s not sure what to think.

* * *

 

“Chris, hi!”

The voice on the other end of the phone line confuses Chris. He pulls the phone back from his ear, looks at the unfamiliar number, and then asks, “Who is this?”

The laugh that answers him is unmistakable and Chris can feel his heart leap into his throat.

“Zach?” he asks.

“Yeah, man,” Zach replies.

“What’re you doing calling me?”

Zach laughs again before saying, “Nice to hear you too.”

Chris shakes himself. “No,” he says, “What I mean is, how did you get my number?”

“I asked J.J. for it,” Zach admits. He doesn’t even sound remotely embarrassed about it either, even though Chris feels his cheeks heat on Zach’s behalf at that admission.

“Are you stalking me now?” Chris asks.

“Hardly,” Zach swears. “I thought you might want to get some dinner though. So we can catch up.”

“Oh,” Chris says. “Umm… when?”

Zach hums a moment before asking, “How about now?”

Chris glances at the clock. It’s 5:10PM. A little earlier than he usually eats, but his stomach grumbles, letting his hunger be known.

“Um, yeah,” Chris agrees. It’s the most spontaneous thing he’s done in a long time. “Sure, why not? Just tell me where I should meet you.”

* * *

 

Less than an hour later, they’re seated in the far corner of Speranza’s outdoor patio, sipping waters, pulling apart bread, and waiting for their meals to be delivered.

Zach looks good: clean-shaven, hair styled to the side, decked out in the skinniest jeans Chris has ever seen on a guy, wearing one of the ugliest sweaters known to man and still, somehow, pulling it off. It’s, honestly, impressive. Chris crosses his legs, takes note of the stain on the hem of his shorts, and tugs at his stretched thin tee. He wishes he felt as put together and confident as Zach looks.

“So how’s life?” Zach asks.

Chris sighs, takes another sip of water to stall, and then answers, “It’s fine.”

“And Beau? How’re things going with her?”

Chris can feel himself deflate at that question. He knows Zach sees it too, because Zach’s own cheerful mask slides a little askew.

“I hear she’s doing well,” Chris tells him.

“Oh,” Zach sighs himself. “I’m sorry, Chris. You and Beau split?”

Chris nods, licking his lips, before redirecting the conversation. “How about you? How’s it being practically married?”

Chris watches Zach’s mask slip even further and he leans in closer to the table.

“Nathan and I broke up,” Zach admits.

Chris frowns.

“I’m really sorry to hear that,” he says. “Truly. What happened?”

The waitress drops off their meals before Zach can answer. They wait until she’s gone before they look at one another again, unsure of how exactly to proceed. Then Zach sighs, breaking whatever hesitation existed between them, before he pours his heart and soul out over two bowls of fresh rolled linguine and clams.

Zach’s story takes them all the way through the main course, with proper pauses to let the horrors of it sink in, and then Chris doesn’t start his story until the waitress drops off their desserts: tiramisus.

“Things were great,” he explains, drawing patterns in the creamy topping of the dessert before taking a bite of it.

“We were happy,” he says after swallowing. “We had this great relationship worked out – we were comfortable with one another, but also comfortable without one another. We could be apart, but we enjoyed being together. And everything was really, just. It was happy.”

Zach nods, encouraging him to continue as he takes a bite of his own dessert.

“Except, she had no idea I was bi,” Chris says, feeling his face heat at the admission. “Or, she _has_ no idea.” He corrects himself.

“Oh,” the word escapes Zach’s mouth on a gasp.

Chris looks at him, makes eye contact, and he can feel the sting of tears threatening at the backs of his eyes.

“I couldn’t keep going living a lie,” Chris says. He’s admitting things to Zach that not even Patrick and Dax have been told. It’s frightening and liberating and possibly the best things he’s done in ages.

“It still hurts to end it though,” Zach says quietly, voicing Chris’ thoughts exactly.

“Yeah,” he agrees with a sharp nod.

Zach leans back in his seat and gives a little nod himself.

“Chris,” he says, “I have to admit, I didn’t just ask you to have dinner because I wanted to catch up. I did want to catch up, but I just also wanted to be the one to tell you that J.J. was really impressed with you today. He was impressed with us both, actually. With the way we played off of one another. Quite frankly, I was impressed, too.”

Chris let’s that all sink in. It’s more praise than he’s gotten in the last year, it seems, and he’s a little shocked to hear it coming from Zach.

“He’s going to offer you the part,” Zach says. “And I really want a friend to be in this with me. I hope you’ll accept it.”

Chris blinks, completely overwhelmed. He fixates on the only part of what Zach just said that his brain can compute.

“I thought you said we couldn’t be friends?”

Zach’s smiles softly, sheepishly even, and ducks his head a little as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, well,” Zach says. “You can be the first queer male friend of mine that I don’t want to sleep with. How about that?”

Zach’s response startles a laugh out of Chris, one that bubbles into near-hysterics and leaves them both in tears by the end of it, huddled over their table, close together.

In the waning light of the evening, seated on the mostly empty patio, surrounded by the soft glow of tabletop candlelight and twinkling yellow lanterns, Zach looks softer than Chris remembers him. Not that Chris ever remembered Zach as having a particularly stony disposition. He remembers him being more crass and brash though. It seems that maturity has crept up on him and Chris is surprised at how well it suits him.

“Friends,” Chris repeats the word, getting used to the feel of it on his tongue in connection with Zach.

Zach offers his hand across the table and waits for Chris to take it. He doesn’t wait long.

“I think I’d really like that,” Chris tells him, giving his hand a firm shake.


	4. Don’t Get Around Much Anymore

Zach sends the text before he can think the better of it.

_Are you awake?_

He doesn’t have to wait long for his phone to ring, Chris’ name and picture scrawled across the screen.

“Hey,” Zach answers.

“Hey, I’m watching Titanic,” Chris admits.

Zach hears him settle, probably into his bed, and Zach settles a little further into his couch in response.

“What channel?”

“HBO2.”

Zach grabs the remote and turns the television on just as Rose wades her way through the ice water to the handcuffed Jack.

“I still can’t believe you’d rather the two of them die together instead of Jack sacrificing himself to let Rose live,” Chris says. He sounds sleepy and warm. Zach can’t help but yawn a little.

“When did I say that?” he asks.

“On that road trip from Cabo,” Chris says, matter-of-fact.

Zach shakes his head even though Chris can’t see it. His cat, Harold, gives him a look that, if he were human, Zach is sure would be an exasperated eye roll.

“I never said that,” Zach swears.

In his mind, he can picture Chris’ shrug when he replies, “Fine, whatever, man.”

They both settle in and watch the movie for a few moments. Then Zach sighs.

“I miss Nathan.”

His face heats at the admission, but there’s no use keeping it hidden. This friendship with Chris is only a few months old and they spend almost all of their time together, between work and training and all their free time, which they usually choose to spend with one another as well, and they’ve found themselves sharing basically everything with one another. Every thought, every feeling, all gets blurted out at one point or another.  There’s really no reason for Zach to blush now – there’s no shame between them anymore. There really never was.

Chris doesn’t say anything in response. A few months ago, Zach would’ve wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Now he knows that Chris is just waiting for Zach to say everything he needs to say before offering his two cents.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Zach continues. “Last night I was up at 4AM watching _F.R.I.E.N.D.S._ in Korean. Of all things, _Korean_. I don’t even know what channel it was showing on… Just so you know, based on the subtitles, it really loses something in translation.”

Chris snorts. “I went to bed as soon as I got in the door last night,” he admits.

Zach sighs. “I guess that’s the good thing about Depression. You get your rest.”

“I’m not depressed,” Chris protests. His voice sounds only mildly agitated though. There’s much less argument in it than is necessary to make Zach believe him fully.

“Okay,” he says simply. He knows the argument would be exhausting and useless and he’d rather keep talking so he lets Chris’ weak protest slide.

“Are you still sleeping on your side of the bed?” Zach asks.

Chris hums a little before saying, “I did at first, but now I’m back to sprawling across the middle of it, claiming all the space.”

“That’s incredible,” Zach sighs.

“You’re not there yet?” Chris asks.

“Not yet,” Zach confirms. “I really do miss Nathan.”

“I don’t miss Beau,” Chris declares. “Not really anyway. I think I miss the idea of her sometimes, but that’s really it.”

“I definitely miss all of Nathan,” Zach assures them both. He folds his legs up beneath him, in a more comfortable sitting position, and leans a little toward the side of the couch.

“Oh wait, it’s the scene,” Chris shushes in hushed tones.

They both quiet and watch as Jack and Rose hold tight to one another on the aft railing while the ship quickly sinks.

“It’s so heartbreaking,” Zach announces as what’s left of the ship is quickly consumed by the frigid sea.

Chris mumbles his agreement before declaring that he can’t keep his eyes open any longer. He does this all the time, gets to the very end of a film and then can’t stay awake to watch the resolution. It drove Zach crazy at first, now he just finds it amusing.

“What’ll you do until 4AM tonight?” Chris asks on a yawn.

“I’m not sure,” Zach answers truthfully. “I might wrangle Harold into a hug and whine into his fur like a pathetic excuse for a human being.”

Chris chuckles, deep and slow, and Zach can’t help smiling at the sound.

“Don’t get scratched too badly. Make-up hates when you bother that cat.”

It’s true. The make-up team keeps begging him to give Harold to his brother or something, just for the duration of filming, but Zach loves him too much to give into their demands.

“I won’t piss him off too much,” he promises Chris.

“Okay,” Chris says, before saying goodbye and hanging up.

Zach’s looks at his phone after they finish speaking and waits. A few seconds later, a new text arrives from Chris.

_Goodnight. Don’t really stay up that late._

Zach grins and replies with his own goodnight before forcing himself off the couch so he can head back into his bedroom.

* * *

 

“It’s the same dream I’ve been having since college, with slight variations,” Zach explains over the pizza they’re sharing on the floor of Chris’ living room.

“Okay,” Chris says, waiting for him to go into the details.

“I’ve got a guy over in my college dorm room,” Zach says. “He always looks different, though lately he’s looked a lot like Nathan… one thing leads to another and we’re fucking hard and fast, panting with it as our climaxes build. Sometimes I’m being fucked, other times I’m doing the fucking, and every time I can feel it like I’m doing both at once. It’s a heady, incredible feeling, Chris. I mean, _seriously_. But always, without fail, just as the orgasm hits, ripping through my body, my mother bursts into the room and gets an eyeful of her baby boy fucking hard and coming harder.”

“Jesus Christ,” Chris whispers, horrified.

“I know,” Zach shrugs, resigned. “And the worst part is, she always looks completely disappointed in me. Not because she now knows, without a doubt, that I’m having sex. But because I could be doing it better.”

Chris nearly chokes on his bite of pizza at that, he’s so startled. It takes him a moment to swallow and clear his windpipe before he can address what he just heard.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asks.

Zach shakes his head.

“My shrink has a field day with me,” he says. “I promise.”

Chris snorts, “I bet.”

They eat some more pizza and Zach grabs them both two new beers from the fridge before he says, “Okay, it’s your turn to tell me your most frequent sex dream.”

Chris lets out a little sigh before nodding.

“Alright,” he says. “It’s been the same since I was eleven, there’s just a little difference, depending on the night.”

Zach waits quietly, trying to be patient, as Chris takes another bite of food.

“I’m always in my childhood bedroom, standing there in the middle of the room, just waiting for something. And there’s someone else there, faceless, just standing opposite me. Then they reach for me, pull me roughly against them, and whisper in my ear how they’re going to make me beg for release… and then I wake up.”

Zach drops his piece of pizza down on his plate and stares at Chris, dumbfounded.

“That’s it?” he asks.

Chris shrugs.

“Yeah, basically,” he says. “Other than a few small changes, it’s always the same.”

“What kind of changes?” Zach asks.

“Whether the faceless person is a man or a woman,” Chris answers easily.

Zach laughs.

“Pine, you’re so completely unbelievable sometimes, I swear,” he says, chucking a dirty napkin at Chris’ head.

Chris ducks easily and it bounces off the couch, missing him by a mile.

* * *

 

“I think we should talk in strange accents for the majority of today,” Zach announces when they get to set one morning.

“What kind of accents,” Chris asks from the make-up chair.

Zach has a later call, otherwise he would’ve been in make-up hours before Chris even arrived to set. It’s a rare treat that they get to spend this time together.

“I don’t know what kind of accents,” Zach says, slipping into a pretty horrifying Irish brogue. “How about this?”

Chris laughs, earning a glare from Stacy as she tries to apply some foundation to his jaw and it streaks across the corner of his lip.

Zach is grinning, ear-to-ear at the response from Chris.

“You think something’s funny?” he asks, horrible accent still in place.

“Nope, not at all,” Chris says.

“Give it a try,” Zach encourages. Chris simply can’t resist him.

“Fine, but this is ridiculous,” he says.

It sounds like a weird cross between a gay Norwegian hair stylist and Arnold Schwarzenegger. Zach laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. Chris can’t keep himself from grinning: he loves hearing that sound.

“Okay, okay,” Zach gasps, trying to get his breathing in order again after all the raucous laughter. “We’re totally doing this during one of our takes later. This is gag reel gold!”

Zach’s enthusiasm is contagious and Chris can’t help but acquiesce to Zach’s wishes.

“Do you want to have dinner tonight?” Zach asks, brogue back in place.

Chris laughs. “Yeah, that really will be gag reel gold,” he agrees.

Zach shakes his head and smiles, sweet and goofy. “I’m not just practicing the accent,” he clarifies. “I was really wondering if you wanted to get together after work.”

Chris frowns. “Oh, um,” he says. “I actually kind of can’t?”

Zach gives him a funny look before smiling again and asking, still with the accent, “Why? Do you have a hot date?”

Chris sighs, “Yeah, actually. I kind of do. I’m kind of meeting an old friend, an old fuck buddy actually…”

He trails off, waiting for Zach’s reaction. Zach visibly sobers.

“What?” he asks. “Why didn’t you say anything about it to me?”

Chris shrugs, careful not to bother Stacy again as she continues to work. “I just thought it might be weird,” he explains. “Since we’ve been spending so much time together…”

“Hey, no,” Zach rushes to reassure him. “I want you to go out. You should get back out there, even if just for a quick fuck, man.”

Chris feels so relieved to hear him say that, and he’s sure, by Zach’s own expression, that the relief is evident.

“You should always feel free to share that stuff with me,” Zach says. “Really. I want to know these things.”

Chris nods a little. “Okay,” he promises before telling Zach, “You should share the same things with me, too.”

Zach reaches over from the chair beside Chris’, fist formed, and waits for Chris to bump it with his own fist. Chris doesn’t leave him hanging.

“It’s a deal,” Zach says, and Chris really can’t imagine why he wouldn’t have told him sooner.

They sit quietly after that, letting their make-up team do make-up magic. When Stacy is finished with Chris, though, and Chris stands to leave, Zach speaks up and stops him in his tracks.

“You should wear blue tonight,” he says. “That dark sapphire button up you’ve got in your closet. The cut looks good on you and it really brings out the color of your eyes.”

Chris blinks at him and his face heats at the advice.

“Thanks,” he says, voice softer than it probably should be.

Zach gives a quick nod and an even quicker smile before Chris is ushered from the room and dragged onto set.

* * *

 

“You know,” Chris says later, between takes, “you should get back out there, too.”

Zach looks like he doesn’t understand what Chris is talking about and then it all falls into place. He shakes his head. “No, absolutely not.”

“Yes, Zach,” Chris insists.

“No, I’m not good for anyone right now,” Zach protests further.

Chris levels him with his most serious glare and Zach shuts his mouth before he can come up with any other excuses.

“It’s time.” Chris’ tone sounds pretty final when he says it. He’s still surprised when Zach seems to give up arguing about it though.

* * *

 

“It was literally the worst date anyone has ever been on,” Zach declares as they wait in line a LAMILL to buy coffees.

“I highly doubt that,” Chris mumbles, picking at the skin around his thumbnail. Zach reaches out and slaps his wrist to get him to stop. Chris gives him a little glare.

“I’m serious,” Zach says.

“Zach,” Chris sighs, “My date pulled out her phone and tried to tweet our entire evening for her 4,000 followers, food pics and all. Hashtag _omg like so horrifying_.”

Zach rolls his eyes.

“That sounds like a fucking cake walk in comparison to my date,” he assures Chris. Chris harrumphs, but waits for Zach to elaborate.

“I met him at some horror of a gay bar for drinks,” Zach says. “I mean, the entire place was decked out in gay cowboy theme, complete with mechanical bull and waiters wearing assless chaps. It was the physical manifestation of every horrifying ‘gay guy’ stereotype I’ve ever heard from supposedly in-the-know straight people. So, of course, I turn to the guy and say _wow, with the number of exaggerated queens here, I’m surprised they didn’t go for the more obvious medieval theme._ ”

Chris snorts out a laugh.

“You see!” Zach exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air, “That was prime humor right there and the guy didn’t even blink. He didn’t laugh the entire night.”

Chris winces. Zach continues, “And then he had to go and tell me he majored in journalism when he went to college and that made me think of Nathan.”

Chris cocks his head to the side and asks, “Nathan majored in journalism?”

“No,” Zach sighs, “He majored in film studies, but they’re both liberal arts majors.”

Chris watches him a moment before shaking his head. “I think,” he says after ordering his giant, triple-shot latte, “it’s going to just take time to get back into things. It might be a while before we’ve got the hang of this whole dating thing again. And it may be even longer before we feel ready to sleep with someone new.”

“Oh,” Zach says after placing his own coffee order, “I absolutely slept with the guy.”

Chris turns to him shocked. “You did?” he asks.

Zach nods without hesitation. “Absolutely.”

Chris stares at him a little longer before making a soft ‘huh’ noise and turning to claim his coffee from the barista calling his name.

* * *

 

“So let me get this straight,” Kristen says as they walk through the mall, hoodies on, glasses on, and baseball caps firmly in place so they look as incognito as two famous people can look in public. “He’s gorgeous, you have a great time with him, you tell him all of your most appalling secrets, and, yet, you’re not sleeping with him?”

Zach nods. “Yeah, basically,” he says, steering her toward the food court as surreptitiously as possible. He has a hankering for French fries and he knows she’s going to take forever picking out this gift for her mother’s birthday. Zach wants to at least be full of potato-y goodness if he’s going to be dragged from store to store.

“Oh, baby,” she coos, stopping in her tracks and reaching out to touch his face. “You’re afraid to let yourself be happy.”

Zach scoffs, rolls his eyes, and starts walking again in the direction of the waiting fries.

“Joe said the same thing when he was over last weekend,” Zach says. It’s alarming how alike his best friend and his brother can be some times.

“Joe has always been the smarter Quinto,” Kristen says with a sage-like nod.

Zach laughs. “You should both actually be happy for me,” he tells her when she catches up to his long strides again. “This is a huge moment of personal growth for me. I’m really becoming a more evolved version of myself here.”

Just then a teenager darts across his path on a skateboard and Zach shouts out, “Watch where you’re fucking going.”

Kristen gives him an incredulous look and he rolls his eyes at her.

“Whatever, the important thing is this is a big step for me. This relationship without sex with another queer man,” Zach says. “It’s actually freeing in a lot of ways I never expected it could be. I can talk to him about anything.”

“Are you saying you can talk to him more easily than you can talk to me?” Kristen asks.

“What I’m saying is,” Zach clarifies, “I can talk to him about anything and he understands the queer perspective. It’s enlightening, honestly. For instance, the other day I fucked this guy so thoroughly, I took him to a place that wasn’t human. He actually meowed.”

Kristen’s steps falter and Zach almost falls over while attempting to stop his own forward momentum so he could stay beside her.

“You made someone meow?” she asks, visibly scandalized and impressed all at once.

“That’s what I mean,” Zach says, hooking his arm with hers and dragging her forward through the mall. “I can say these things to Chris, be completely honest about these experiences, and get the queer guy perspective on it without having to wonder whether it’ll ruin my chances of getting him to have sex with me.”

Kristen shakes her head and just repeats the question, “You actually made a guy _meow_???”

Zach sighs, shakes his head, and drags her ever onward.

* * *

 

“It’s unreasonably hot,” Chris whines as Zach rejoins him on the sofa, handing him a fresh popsicle.

Zach’s AC isn’t working, it hasn’t been working for the past week actually, and they’re both too lazy after their run to head over to Chris’ house instead. They’d much rather groan and complain as they sweat than do anything to fix it.

“Sorry, man,” Zach says, for the fiftieth time.

“You’ve been bringing guys here?” Chris asks, unwrapping the popsicle.

“Yeah,” Zach confirms. His mouth is blue from the popsicle he’s already eaten. The new one he has is purple. His lips are going to look like a cartoon bruise.

Of course, Chris just ate a red popsicle, so he’s sure his own mouth looks like a sticky, bloody mess. The pair of them would be quite a sight right now.

“This is tantamount to torture,” Chris tells him. “I hope you show these guys an extra good time in repayment for subjecting them to this sauna.”

Zach grins, smugly. “Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure they have a really great time.”

Chris scoffs, “Oh, sure.”

“Seriously,” Zach says, “I take real good care of them. I even give them a treat.”

Chris laughs, “A treat? Are we eating sex reward popsicles right now, Zachary? I’m well and truly scandalized at the thought.”

Zach laughs and bumps Chris’ shoulder with his own. “They get to suck a different kind of popsicle, if you know what I mean,” he says with a truly ridiculous wink.

Chris honest to God guffaws at that.

“Let me get this straight,” he says. “You fuck them and then, if they’ve been good little boys, you reward them by _letting them suck your cock_?”

Zach shrugs, like what Chris just said is in no way, shape, or form out of the ordinary.

“I’ll have you know I have a really impressive cock,” he replies, matter-of-fact.

Chris snorts. “Yeah, okay, so do I,” he says, “but what makes your blowjob a reward for them?”

Zach gives him a blank look. “I told you. They love my cock. They basically beg to suck it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Chris mumbles, “I can’t even handle this right now…”

“What?” Zach asks, looking seriously confused.

“What?” Chris repeats. “ _What_ , Zachary?”

“Yeah,” he says, annoyed now. “What’s the problem here?”

“The problem here,” Chris informs him, “is plenty of people say they love sucking cock, but there’s really only like 5% of people who honestly enjoy it, while everyone else is wishing they could get the whole thing over with.”

“Yeah, well,” Zach says, clearly waving off Chris’ concerns. “All the guys I fuck have certainly loved sucking _my_ cock.”

“How do you know?” Chris asks.

Zach stares at him, popsicle dripping onto his fingers. “Because I know.”

“How?” Chris asks, his own fingers getting dripped on.

“Christopher, what are you saying?” Zach asks, wiping at his hand with a nearby napkin. “That they’re faking enjoying themselves?”

Chris sighs. “I’m saying that most people hate giving head and most people getting head assume the giver likes it, so you do the math.”

Zach shakes his head and discards his balled up napkin on the coffee table.

“No way, man,” he says. “I could tell the difference.”

Chris stares at him for a moment. He watches as Zach refocuses away from him and turns back to his popsicle. Chris briefly glances at his own popsicle before getting an idea.

He takes a deep breath, earning a glance from Zach, angles his popsicle just slightly toward him, and leans in to lick a stripe up the underside from base to tip. When he reaches the end, he flicks his tongue across the tip of the dessert and lets out a little gasp before engulfing the whole end in his mouth on a groan. He works his tongue across the tip, humming loudly, as he grips the edge of the couch cushion in his free hand.

“Chris.”

He glances across as Zach and Zach’s own breath hitches at almost the exact same time Chris’ does. While they’re staring at one another, Chris slides the popsicle further into his mouth, moaning as the ice hits the back of his throat, before he pulls back off again.

He nips just under the tip of the ice, places sucking kisses all the way down to the base, and then runs his tongue across his own sticky fingers, his own breath hitching again. When he drags his tongue along the bottom again, back up to the tip, he takes just enough time to groan out, “Fuck, tastes so fucking good,” before he engulfs the whole ice in his mouth again.

When Chris looks through his lashes over at Zach, he notes that Zach looks embarrassed and captivated in equal measure. Chris decides then, to slide his free hand from the couch between them onto his own leg so he can rub his thigh as he releases another long, humming moan, and begins sucking off the popsicle in earnest.

He leans back into the couch for more comfort, tilts his head back a little like he’s really down on his knees, and pulls the quickly melting popsicle in a little deeper before scratching the blunt nails of his free hand across the denim on his thigh and pressing his palm to his crotch, so he can rub himself while he continues to loudly fellate the popsicle until it’s all gone.

He’s panting when he finishes, but it only takes a moment to calm his breathing to normal again. Chris listens as Zach’s breathing stays ragged for quite a bit longer. He blinks and looks at Zach.

“And that’s how that’s done,” he says, voice slightly hoarse. He watches as Zach swallows and gives a little shake of his head.

“Yeah,” Zach says, still shocked and, seemingly, bewildered. “That is certainly how that’s done.”


	5. How To Make Two Lovers of Friends

_I think you and Kristen could hit it off,_ Zach had said one night over a game of scrabble. _I’ll even make dinner. Keep it private._

The paparazzi have been following them more and more these days and they never fail to ruin Chris’ mood.

_Quid pro quo, dude,_ he’d replied. _You set me up with Kristen. I set you up with Dax. Everyone wins._ Zach had rolled his eyes, but agreed.

Now, Chris and Dax are slowly walking together, a bottle of wine in each of their left hands, a cake box in Chris’ right. Zach’s apartment is only a few blocks away, so it won’t take long to get there. The trip is starting to feel like an eternity though, the more Dax speaks.

“So, I sent myself one of those edible arrangements,” he says. “A stupidly romantic one. You know, the kind with the chocolate dipped strawberries and pineapple cutouts in the shape of hearts.”

“You’re allergic to pineapple,” Chris points out.

Dax waves him off. “That’s beside the point,” he says. “I just wanted to wow him. He was supposed to be coming over for dinner, so I even included a card, so he’d be sure to see it. It said, _I can’t imagine my life without you. Please come back to me. – Alex_.”

“Gender ambiguous,” Chris notes.

“Exactly,” Dax says, excited. “So I have this ridiculous amount of fruit and this card, conspicuously laying on top of the kitchen counter, and I’m preparing dinner for us both, and he texts to cancel.”

“Ugh,” Chris groans. Only partially in sympathy.

“Yeah,” Dax says, flailing around the bottle of wine he’s holding. “I spent $80 on this stupid fruit arrangement –

“That you can’t even eat because of the pineapple,” Chris interrupts.

Dax nods. “And he cancelled to go to some work event with his wife… I really think he’s never gonna leave her.”

Chris stops walking and gives Dax an incredulous look. “No,” he says, “he’s never, ever going to leave her, Dax.”

Dax just stares at him a moment before sighing. “You’re right, you’re right, I know you’re right.”

Chris blinks at him, shakes his head a little, and resumes walking.

“Where is this place, anyway?” Dax asks, falling into step beside Chris again.

“It’s just a few blocks over.”

“I can’t believe I agreed to do this.”

“Look,” Chris sighs. “Zach is one of my best friends and you are one of my best friends. If you can get together and somehow hit it off, then maybe we can all remain friends without everyone drifting apart, the way you do when your best friends marry someone you barely know, outside your friend group.”

Dax hums thoughtfully, before he says, “You and I haven’t drifted apart since I started seeing David.”

Chris barks out a frustrated laugh before replying. “Dax, if I ever actually met David and if he ever actually left his wife, we would drift apart. I’m sure.”

Dax lets that settle in before saying, “He’s never gonna leave her.”

“No,” Chris confirms, annoyed now, “He’s not!”

“You’re right, you’re right, I know you’re right.”

Chris sighs out his frustration and continues walking.

* * *

 

“I don’t know about this,” Kristen says as she sets the table.

Zach shoots her a look, turning from the pot of pasta sauce on the stove just long enough to give her the patented Sylar _bitch-please_ face. She laughs.

“I’m just finally at a place in my life where I feel really good being alone, Zach,” she says. “You know this. You’ve known me for years now. Besides, if he’s so wonderful, I still don’t understand why you’re not dating him yourself.”

Zach sighs. It feels like the same sigh he’s made a thousand times already in response to this conversation.

“I told you,” he says, “Chris and I are just friends.”

She hums and asks, “It’s because he’s actually a giant douche, isn’t it?”

Zach practically slams the spoon against the edge of the pot.

“No!” he tells her. “If anything, _you’re_ too much of a douche for _him_. Let’s be real here.”

She laughs again. “Touché.”

They both go back to their tasks. Zach turns on the burner to bring the pasta pot filled with water to a boil and Kristen lays out cutlery on napkins.

“He’s too pretty though, right?” she asks, breaking the silence.

Zach sighs, “Yes, he’s a pretty dude, but he’s certainly not too pretty.”

“Too pretty for me, I mean,” she clarifies.

She does have a marked preference for less-than-classically-handsome faces. Zach resists the urge to frown. “He’s just the right amount of pretty,” he assures her.

She hums incredulously in reply. It’s going to be a long night, he can already tell.

* * *

 

Introductions go well. Chris thinks they go well, anyway. Dax doesn’t do anything supremely embarrassing as soon as they arrive, and Kristen comes across as sweet, so it doesn’t go up in flames immediately.

Of course, there’s still time.

They sit down to eat a few minutes after they arrive. Everyone brings something to the table while Chris puts the cake in the fridge. Zach has made pasta, with his mother’s sauce recipe, and Chris’ stomach lets out a loud growl at the memory of that taste.

Everyone laughs.

“Sorry,” he says, face warm. “I’ve been thinking about this sauce all day.”

Zach smiles, bright and pleased. Kristen and Dax give him a smile each as well. Neither holds a candle to Zach’s.

They serve up their food and devolve into idle chitchat as they eat. Chris makes an effort to keep his attentions focused on Kristen.

“So,” he says, “you’ve been out here in L.A. for a while now, right?”

She nods, twirling her fork in her pasta.

“Yeah, since about 2002,” she says. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’ve been here my whole life,” he says.

“That’s right,” she says, gesturing with her fork. “Your dad’s an actor too. He was on that show…”

“CHiPs,” Chris supplies.

“Yeah, CHiPs,” Kristen says, eyes gleaming. “What a gig. You must’ve had amazing contacts here to start.”

Chris shrugs. “Much less than you’d think.”

“And that face…” she sighs. It’s not a wistful or envious sound, but it’s not exactly derisive either. Still, it rubs Chris the wrong way.

“You started in theater, right?” Chris asks, trying to change the focus to Kristen.

“Yeah, on Broadway,” she says.

That soothes his ruffled feathers a little. “That’s incredible,” he tells her honestly.

“Yeah, it was amazing,” she says. “I hope I get to go back.”

They kind of watch one another a moment, but don’t say anything else. The silence quickly becomes awkward and they both turn back towards their plates to eat a little while Dax and Zach continue to chat.

“I just don’t really have an artistic vision for myself beyond _make people laugh_ ,” Dax says, voice clearly agitated.

Zach huffs a little and Chris watches them both as the silence spreads and descends over the whole group. His eyes linger a little on the top of Zach’s ducked head, before he turns his attentions to Dax.

Dax gives him an exasperated look and Kristen clears her throat.

“Yeah,” Zach sighs, lifting his head. He avoids Chris’ eyes and turns to Kristen, pasting a forced smile on his face.

“Chris,” he says, “Your mom and Kristen’s mom are both health care professionals.”

“Oh yeah?” Chris asks.

“Yeah, my mom’s a nurse,” Kristen tells him.

“Mine’s a therapist,” he says in reply.

“Nice,” she says, nodding.

The oppressive silence slides back over them and Chris shifts in his seat.

“Zach,” Chris says, “you and Dax both love Brad Pitt.”

Dax lights up like a Christmas tree at that, just like Chris knows he will. He’s had to hear about Dax’s obsession with Brad Pitt for years now. This should be a huge point in Zach’s favor. Zach just smiles politely, though, and says, “Oh yeah. Which is your favorite of his movies?”

Dax doesn’t hesitate before saying, “Legends of the Fall. For sure.”

Zach nods. “Nice.”

“What about yours?” Dax asks.

“They’re all more or less great,” Zach says. “I first saw him in Thelma and Louise, of course. But he’s just a solid actor all around.”

Chris watches Dax completely deflate before he starts jabbing at his plate with his fork.

“Thelma and Louise,” Dax says after a moment.

“Is there something wrong with Thelma and Louise?” Zach asks, clearly bristling.

“No, not at all,” Dax says before muttering, “Not if you don’t mind a movie where a 1966 Ford Thunderbird convertible is senselessly destroyed.”

“I would hardly say it was senselessly destroyed,” Zach replies.

Dax half-shrugs.

“Dax is a little sensitive about cars, being basically from Detroit,” Chris explains, trying to diffuse the situation between them before it gets bad.

“You’re from Detroit?” Kristen asks suddenly. All eyes turn to her and Dax gives her a suspicious look. “Yeah,” he says.

“I’m from Detroit,” she says, smile beaming.

Dax softens a little, gives her a more appraising look, and asks, “Sports teams?”

Kristen chuckles.

“Well, I actually love the Steelers for football,” she says.

“Acceptable,” Dax replies, grinning. “I like the Patriots myself.”

She laughs at that and wrinkles her nose. “No way.”

He laughs, “Yes way.”

“You’re so wrong though,” she says. “But it’s fine. You’re entitled to your wrong opinion.”

“Right,” he agrees. “Especially because we all know the most important thing is who you like for hockey.”

“I’ll cheer on the Red Wings until my dying breath,” she swears.

Dax drops his fork and offers her his palm for a high five. Kristen laughs again but doesn’t leave him hanging.

“Red Wings all the way, baby,” Dax declares, shooting Chris an amused look.

Chris just looks around the table until he catches Zach’s eye and they both shake their heads.

* * *

 

“Well, I’m going to clear the table before we have dessert,” Zach announces once they finish eating.

Dax and Kristen have been doing most of the talking throughout their dinner, but Kristen stands up when Zach does and announces, “I’ll help you.”

Chris stands too, then.

“I’m gonna run to the restroom,” he says.

“Good,” Dax says, “I’ll go with you.”

“What the hell?” Chris asks, but Dax propels him forward with his own momentum and Chris helplessly leads the way.

“What’s up with you?” he asks once they’re out of Zach and Kristen’s earshot.

“Nothing, nothing,” Dax assures him. “It’s just. If you’re not gonna call Kristen, do you think I could?”

Chris just stares at him a moment and blinks.

“You want to date Kristen,” he says.

Dax nods more emphatically than Chris has seen him nod in ages. It’s so emphatic, he finds himself nodding in return.

“Yeah, sure,” he says. It’s not as if he felt any connection to Kristen after their disastrous dinner conversation. “Just don’t make a move on her tonight, okay? Zach’s in a vulnerable place after his partner left and I don’t want you to make that hurt any worse for him, you know?”

“Of course,” Dax assures him, “I wouldn’t even dream of it. I promise.”

Chris gives him an assessing look and nods.

“Can I go pee in private now?” he asks.

Dax steps aside.

“Yeah, of course.”

* * *

 

“What do you think of Dax?” Kristen asks Zach as soon as they’ve got the sink running in the kitchen, giving them some extra privacy.

Zach gives a half shrug as he starts washing the dishes.

“He’s fine,” he says. It’s the most diplomatic response he can come up with at the moment.

“I, uh,” Kristen falters and Zach turns toward her quick enough to catch her blushing.

“What’s up?” he asks, confused.

She takes a deep breath and forges forward.

“I actually really like him, so if you’re not interested in giving him a call, I’d like to see if he’d go out with me sometime,” she says in a rush.

Zach stares at her, shocked, as the water continues to run. He’d had a miserable time trying to hold a conversation with Dax that evening, but it’s not as if he felt any real loss over that fact. 

“Oh, um,” he sputters, turning back to the dishes. “Yeah, I mean. I don’t mind at all. Go for it. Just, wait a little while before you do, okay? Because Chris is in a really rough spot right now, emotionally. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“I wouldn’t even dream of doing anything tonight,” she swears, pulling the dish from Zach’s hands so she can dry it.

* * *

 

Zach barely gets the cake placed on the table when Chris steps back in the room, Dax close behind him, staring directly at Kristen.

“I, um,” Kristen says suddenly, catching all of their attentions. “I don’t think I’m really in the mood for cake… I think I’m actually gonna head on home.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of tired,” Dax agrees.

“Well, my car’s just out front,” she says. “I can bring you home or something.”

“Sounds great,” he says.

Before Zach can even process exactly what’s happening, Dax and Kristen are gone, the front door shutting behind them, and Zach’s left with Chris and an entire chocolate cake.

They stare at one another, completely bewildered, before Zach shakes his head.

“At least they left the cake,” Chris says with a little shrug.

Zach has to lean on the table, he starts laughing so hard.

“This is so fucking typical,” Chris says, laughing himself.

He closes the gap between them, grabs a fork from Zach’s hand, and sits, digging into the cake without bothering to even cut any slices. Zach wipes away tears of mirth from his eyes before joining him.


	6. I Was a Fool to Fall and Get That Way

“Zach, come on,” Chris urges around a mouthful of soft pretzel.

Zach sighs and reaches over to take a pretzel stick out of the container in Chris’ hand before giving up and following Chris out of the store.

“We should’ve just gone to the plant store,” Zach says.

“No,” Chris brushes him off, “That’s so boring and neither Dax nor Kristen are boring.”

Zach has to concede that point. Neither one of their friends has ever been boring, but together, the way they have been for the last few months, they’re somehow even less boring. Still, it shouldn’t be so hard to find two of their best friends a housewarming gift.

“This mall is too big,” Zach complains.

“Yeah, well, anywhere smaller and we’d have been noticed for sure,” Chris says, pulling his baseball cap lower over his forehead.

With the movie release date drawing nearer and nearer, the paparazzi are becoming increasingly interested in their whereabouts and who they might be with at any given time. It’s annoying, but nothing Zach hasn’t gotten a little used to since Heroes started. Chris, on the other hand, seems like he’ll never be used to this. Zach has never seen someone so affected by the mere idea of a camera following him. He’s beginning to wonder if Chris really knew what he was getting into here when he agreed to be Zach’s screen partner for this film.

“Oh wait, let’s look in here,” Chris says, taking hold of Zach’s wrist and dragging him into a Brookstone store.

“I somehow don’t think this place has anything they might need, Chris,” Zach protests carefully, eyeing the ridiculous looking chair massager nearest them.

Chris just fixes him with a dark look before leaving him standing alone in the middle of the store, wrist cold after Chris’ fingers are gone.

“Come on, Zach,” he urges, impatiently.

Zach sighs and complies. He finds himself perusing the biggest assortment of pretentiously overpriced, useless electronic devices he’s ever seen. He stays quiet while he observes Chris looking at the things on display until Chris finally stops, scratches at his stomach, and sighs himself.

“There really is nothing here for them, is there.” It’s supposed to be a question, but the inflection sounds more like a resigned statement, so Zach refrains from saying _I told you so_. He’s about to suggest they try the Macy’s a few stores down when he locks eyes on the most delightful thing he’s seen all day.

“Hold the phone,” he says, walking briskly away.

He hears Chris make some defeated noise in the back of his throat, but he knows without looking that he’s being followed.

“Here we go now,” Zach says, gesturing to the item tucked away in the back corner of the store.

Chris stares at it, dumbfounded, before turning his focus to Zach.

“A karaoke machine,” he says.

Zach grins ear to ear and nods.

“You want to get them a karaoke machine?” Chris asks.

“I think it’d be the perfect thing for the two of them, honestly,” he says. “They’re both ridiculous show-offs, they love some healthy competition, and they love karaoke. It’s actually perfect.”

“You’re serious right now,” Chris says.

Zach laughs. “Let’s try it out.”

He grabs the microphone and presses play before Chris can protest. The opening beat of the first queued up song plays and any protest Chris was about to make visibly dies on his lips and morphs into a deep, belly laugh.

Zach smiles at the sight and starts to ham it up, dancing ridiculously to the beat before he starts to sing.

“ _I hear the drums echoing tonight, but she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation_ ,” Zach sings, “ _She's coming in, twelve-thirty flight. Her moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide me towards salvation._ ”

He stops and leans in closer so Chris can join him.

“Come on Chris, don’t leave me hanging,” he says.

“No way,” Chris protests.

“I know you can sing, Pine,” Zach says, pushing the microphone in Chris’ face. “ _Hurry boy, it's waiting there for you_."

Chris laughs again, but in the craziest falsetto Zach’s ever heard he jumps in and joins for the chorus.

“ _It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you. There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do_ ,” he sings, “ _I bless the rains down in Africa. Gonna take some time to do the things we never had._ ”

Zach laughs himself before starting on the second verse. He only gets one line in before someone catches his eye across the store and he’s stunned silent. Chris continues singing, oblivious to the way Zach’s world has somehow just stopped, until Zach reaches out for him, fingers trembling as they clutch at Chris’ jeans.

“Zach?” Chris says into the microphone, voice filled with concern.

“Nathan’s coming this way,” he whispers.

“Nathan?” Chris says directly into the microphone. The name echoes out around them and Chris, embarrassed, lowers the device in his hand.

“Hi, Zach,” Nathan says when he reaches them.

“Hi,” Zach replies weakly.

“Darling, where did you… oh…”

Zach watches as the same producer/director/whatever who Nathan left him for comes gliding up beside him, wrapping possessive fingers around Nathan’s arm.

“Zach, this is Donald,” Nathan says. “Donald, Zach.”

Zach does the gentlemanly thing on autopilot and reaches out to shake this asshole’s hand. He hazily notes that Chris does the same, introducing himself, since Zach can’t seem to reply in anything but monosyllabic words.

“How have you been?” Nathan asks.

“Fine,” Zach says. It feels heavy on his tongue, like a lie.

“Well,” Nathan says.

They stand a few moments in silence, just staring at one another. Then Donald trails his hand down Nathan’s arm and locks their fingers together and Nathan must take that as his cue to exit the situation. They say goodbye, but Zach’s unclear exactly what they each say. His brain is filling with loud static and the rush of his own beating heart as Nathan and Donald depart.

He vaguely notes Chris moving closer to him, reaching to brush the backs of his fingers across Zach’s arm. Zach flinches away from the touch.

“He looked weird, right?” he says finally.

“I don’t know,” Chris says. “I only just met him.”

“No, he definitely looked weird,” Zach says with more conviction now. “He’s probably gotten work done, cheek implants or something.”

“Zach,” Chris softly chides.

“No, I’m serious,” he says, “He’s always been like the anti-Pinocchio. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was entirely plastic.”

* * *

 

Chris pulls up to Dax and Kristen’s new house and sits quietly beside Zach after shutting off the car. Zach hasn’t said a word to him since leaving the mall. He didn’t speak when Chris escorted him to the car, or when they stopped at the plant place after all. He just moved on autopilot, nodding or shaking his head when spoken to. Like Nathan’s presence rendered him mute.

“Come on,” Chris sighs, patting Zach’s knee before exiting the car and retrieving the orchid from the back seat.

Zach continues to follow him in his fugue state and Chris is starting to get really concerned. So concerned, in fact, that he’s entirely unprepared for the situation awaiting them in the house.

Dax greets them at the door and drags Chris inside by the wrist.

“I need someone on my side in here,” he explains, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Hi, Kristen,” Chris says when he finds himself in their living room.

“Hi, Chris. Hi, Zach,” she says, not moving to embrace them because her arms are full of books.

“What do you think of this painting,” Dax asks, redirecting Chris’ attention.

Chris looks at the indicated painting, hanging on the nearby wall, and blinks at it for a moment. It’s one of those ridiculous paintings, like the dogs playing poker, only the dogs are at a diner, drinking coffee and eating pie. The waitress is a perfectly coifed poodle, eyeing one of the bulldogs seductively while she leaves him his bill.

“It’s, uh, interesting,” he says.

“See!” Dax exclaims. “He likes it!”

“Of course he likes it,” Kristen says. Chris can hear the eye roll even though he can’t see it. “He’s your friend.”

“Fine then,” Dax says. “Zach, what do you think?”

Chris looks from the painting to Zach and watches as Zach seems to wake up as if he’s just realized he’s surrounded by other people.

“It’s the ugliest thing you’re ever seen, right?” Kristen prompts and Dax scoffs.

“Nathan and I started like this,” Zach says.

His voice is low, but somehow sharper and louder than everyone else’s. Chris keeps watching him as Dax and Kristen seem to clam up around them.

“We got a place, moved our things in together, decided who would put what where and what would go into our storage unit. Then what happens? Six years later you find yourself singing _Africa_ in front of Donald!”

He ends on a yell and Chris flinches but doesn’t take his eyes off Zach.

“Do we have to have this discussion right now?” Chris asks him, voice a hissed whisper.

“Yeah, actually, I think we do,” Zach insists. He looks almost manic. “I want our friends here to benefit from my experience, after all.”

Chris shakes his head and shoots a glance at Dax and Kristen. The two of them look more than a little startled.

“Right now everything is great,” Zach continues his diatribe. “Everyone’s in love. Everyone is happy. And that’s wonderful. But eventually, you’re going to be facing off, screaming at one another, as you rack up charges arguing back and forth over your belongings at the legal firm of This Is Mine, That is Yours.”

“Zach,” Chris tries to stop him once more, but Zach just ignores him.

“Please, Kristen, Dax,” Zach says, beseechingly, “do yourselves a favor and write your names in your books now. Because, believe it or not, one day you’ll be going ten rounds over who gets to keep this painting. This tacky, dog diner painting!”

Before anyone can get a word in edgewise, Zach storms out of the house.

Kristen and Dax both turn to Chris and Chris just shakes his head.

“He just bumped into Nathan,” he offers in explanation. It seems to be enough, because their friends’ faces soften. Chris doesn’t wait around to talk to them about it any longer though. He turns to go after Zach, leaving Dax and Kristen inside to sort their own problems.

Once outside, Chris finds Zach sitting on the steps leading down from the front porch. He approaches slowly but doesn’t sit.

“I know, I know,” Zach says on a sigh. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Chris crosses his arms over his chest and sighs himself.

“Zach,” he says, “this certainly wasn’t the time or the place for this outburst.”

Zach scowls and pushes himself to a standing position again.

“Thank you, Emily Post,” he snarls. “I think I already recognized that fact.”

“Hey, don’t take your anger out on me,” Chris says, annoyed now.

“Oh no, I think I’m actually entitled to throw a little anger your way,” Zach says, stepping closer. “Especially when I’m being told how to live my life by Mr. Phlegmatic here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chris asks, eyes narrowed.

“It means nothing ever bothers you!” Zach yells, throwing his arms in the air. “You don’t even give a fuck about Beau. I never see that back up on you. How is that possible? Don’t you experience any feelings of loss?”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Chris says shuffling his feet a little.

“If you’re so over Beau, why aren’t you seeing anyone?” Zach asks.

“I see people,” Chris says, eyes snapping back up to Zach’s.

“Sure, okay,” Zach says, “Once in a blue moon. But you rarely sleep with anyone. You’ve fucked maybe two people since you broke up with her.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Chris asks, stepping into Zach’s space now, blood finally boiling. “That will prove I’m over Beau? If I fuck everyone I meet? Zachary, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re going to have to move back to Pittsburgh. You’ve already fucked every queer guy between Santa Ana and Lancaster and I don’t see that turning Nathan into a faint memory for you. Besides, I’ll fuck someone when it means something to me, not like you do, like you’re out for revenge or something.”

Chris pauses to take a shuddering breath, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. The tense air almost crackles between them.

“Can I say something now?” Zach asks after the silence falls. His voice is softer than it has been since Nathan appeared that afternoon.

Chris heaves another sigh, but makes eye contact with Zach again and nods.

“I’m sorry,” Zach says, face twisted with remorse and pain.

He reaches out and pulls Chris into a tight hug. Chris leans into the embrace and returns it with shaking arms.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes the words into the side of Chris’ neck and Chris’ holds him a little tighter.

They take deep breaths, reorienting themselves after their argument, and they don’t release one another for few moments. When they feel more settled, and they lean apart, Chris smiles and takes Zach’s hand to lead him back into Dax and Kristen’s house. As they walk up the porch steps, Dax comes banging out of the front door, the framed painting in his arms.

He turns to the two of them and glares a little before warning them, “Don’t say a word.”

Chris and Zach watch silently as he walks it over to the garbage cans lined up by the side of the house and deposits the canvas.

* * *

 

It’s late in the evening on a Friday, and Zach is busy cleaning his house. It’s honestly the saddest thing he’s done on a Friday evening in a long time, but the house needs the cleaning badly, especially since he’s going to be leaving on the Trek press tour in a few weeks. He’s too tired to go anywhere or be seen socially tonight, anyway.

He hasn’t gone out to find his next one-night-stand in over a week, actually. Chris’ words at Kristen and Dax’s house really did strike a chord. He’s been talking to his therapist about it and he’s chosen to be mostly celibate for now while he works out what exactly can be done to let go of that Nathan hurt he’s been harboring, once and for all.

He’s got a pair of shoes under one arm and another pair hanging from his hand when his cellphone rings. He glances at the clock, notes it’s about time for Chris to call, and grabs the phone with his free hand, smiling. “Hello, Chris.”

He’s met with an odd sounding silence at the other end of the line.

“Chris?” he asks, suddenly worried.

“Hey,” Chris says. He sounds off. Like he’s speaking in a fish tank.

Zach drops his shoes to the floor. “Chris, what’s wrong?” he asks, voice urgent now.

“Can you come over?” Chris asks.

“Yeah, of course,” Zach says. He’s already out of the bedroom, looking for his car keys. He could easily run there, but he worries he might need the car. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“Beau called,” Chris says, choking on her name.

Zach stops in his tracks and rubs his hand across his face. He’s relieved in a way, even if he knows this is no less urgent.

“Okay,” he assures Chris, “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Chris says and ends the call.

Zach gives up on the key search then and goes straight for the door. He’ll leave the place unlocked and hope it’ll be okay when he returns. He doesn’t have time to waste continuing looking for his keys right now. He’ll just have to run after all.

It takes him roughly five and a half minutes to get from his place to Chris’. He knocks on the front door while catching his breath and he’s almost instantly met with the most pathetic thing he’s seen in ages. Chris answers the door dressed in his rattiest tee and softest sweatpants. He’s clutching a dishtowel in one hand and staring at Zach with heartache etched into the lines on his forehead and unspilled tears swimming in his eyes.

“Beau knows I’m bisexual,” Chris blurts before Zach can even invite himself inside.

Of all the things Zach thought Chris might say, that hadn’t even made the list. Chris walks away from the door, back towards the kitchen, and Zach follows him into the apartment, trying to come up with something to say.

“She called you?” he asks.

Chris nods vigorously and says, “Just about an hour ago.”

“What did she say exactly?” Zach asks as Chris turns back toward the dishes in the drain board.

Chris hates dishes. He hates washing them and he especially hates drying them. The only time he ever actually hand-dries the dishes, instead of letting them air-dry, is when he’s upset. Zach watches just how violently he wipes at the water on the plate he’s picked up and gauges just how much of a mess this situation is. He can see after one swipe of the towel that it’s going to be a seriously long night.

“She said hi, she just was thinking about me, and she wanted to check in,” Chris explains. “I said hi back and asked how she was. She’s great. She’s seeing some guy in her Yoga class. He’s apparently a personal trainer. She’s never been happier and she wanted to see how I was doing. So I told her I was fine. She asked if I was seeing anyone at the moment, and I told her I wasn’t, and she got real quiet.”

Zach nods, encouraging Chris to continue speaking even though Chris’ back is to him and he knows Chris can’t see him.

“So she says then that she had a question for me, but she would understand if I didn’t want to answer because it’s not her place anymore and whatever,” Chris says. “But she had heard some rumors. Rumors about you and me. And she had this idea. She did some digging. And well, she wanted to know if I was maybe bi.”

Zach sits down on the nearest stool and leans on the kitchen counter. Chris hazards a glance over at him before continuing.

“I just kind of sputtered. I mean. I had wanted to tell her for so long, but I didn’t think I could, and here she was asking me, point blank. And I just. I froze. And she went quiet and I went quiet and she just said she wanted me to know that it was okay. She had always had an inkling that I wasn’t straight… and that she’d never be enough for me or something? So she never asked before, because she didn’t want to ruin what we had. But she wanted me to know she knew now. Because, in case I was happy, and I was with you, that she understood and she was sorry it didn’t work out between her and I.”

Zach just stares, watching Chris shift on his feet, avoiding eye contact. “Chris…” he trails off helplessly.

Chris finally looks up then, tears no longer brimming but overflowing, and Zach can’t even count the number of emotions flickering across his face let alone identify them all.

“She’s getting married too,” Chris says. “To that trainer guy. She wanted to let me know. She wanted to let me know everything we’d had was apparently a lie. That neither of us had ever been truthful or felt safe enough to be ourselves and that she’d found someone else who could give her everything I couldn’t…”

Chris cuts himself off with a choked sob and Zach gets back to his feet, his legs miraculously not giving out as soon as he’s upright, and he walks over to wrap himself around Chris in a strong, reassuring hug. Chris clings to him in return and cries into Zach’s shoulder.

“I’m never enough,” he says on a gasp between sobs.

Zach knows he’s not just talking about Beau. He knows he’s thinking of Paul. He knows he’s thinking of everyone else that came in between. He knows Chris is thinking of how alone he’s always, ultimately felt.

“You’re enough, Chris,” Zach swears against the side of his head. He presses his lips and the words into Chris’ hair, repeating them like a mantra.

“Everyone leaves me,” he says.

“That’s not true,” Zach says.

He wants to say, _I’d never leave you_ , but something inside him keeps the words bottled up.

“You’re wrong,” Chris says. “I’m incapable of trusting. Incapable of being trusted.”

“Shut up right now, Pine,” Zach growls at him, giving him a little shake. “You’re one of the best people I’ve ever known, so you stop that train of thought this instant, you hear me? You’re going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t even know that,” he says. He sounds so petulant.

“Yeah I do,” Zach promises. “I do know it. In fact, it’s only logical.”

A bubble of laughter bursts out of Chris as Zach slips into his Spock voice. Then the bubble grows into a full-body rumble and Zach has to laugh along to keep a hold of Chris as he shakes.

“There we go,” Zach says as they both catch their breath. “Feeling better?”

Chris nods. “Yeah. Much, actually.”

Zach rubs his hand over Chris’ back in big, soothing circles.

“Good,” he says. “I’ll make us some tea then and we can go sit and talk some more or do whatever else you want.”

Chris tightens his grip on Zach as Zach starts to release him.

“Can you just hold me a little longer?” he asks. “Please?”

Zach exhales and wraps his arms tight around Chris again, resuming the back-rubbing. “Of course, Chris.”

Chris nuzzles closer to Zach, burrowing further into their embrace, and Zach begins swaying them both in the middle of Chris’ kitchen. He doesn’t slacken his grip on Chris until Chris takes a deep breath and begins pulling himself away.

“You okay now?” Zach asks, his hand trailing up to Chris’ face to wipe at some of the tear tracks on his cheeks.

“Yeah, much better,” Chris admits. He sounds more like himself when he says the words, and Zach is so relieved to hear it that he leans in and presses a kiss to Chris’ forehead.

It should be weird, but it’s really the opposite. They’ve been the closest friends for months and months now, touching and hugging constantly, but they’ve never shared a friendly kiss before. Chris leans into the press of Zach’s lips though like he’s been doing so for years.

When Zach leans back, Chris follows the touch and looks up through his lashes at him. Before Zach’s brain can catch up with what’s happening, Chris is slowly leaning in to brush their lips together. It’s chaste. Just a friendly brush of lips. Tentative in a way the forehead kiss was not. Chris watches him nervously after it happens and Zach gives him a small smile to try to show him everything is okay.

Then they’re both leaning in again, kissing a little less chastely this time. Lips pressing together, not just brushing. Hands gripping at one another’s clothes and holding one another more tightly.

It all happens in a rush after that. Clothes are lost, strewn around the apartment, as the kisses they share turn urgent. They somehow stumble toward the bedroom and make it to the bed before collapsing together. There’s no discussion about what’s happening, no planned out course of action or deliberate exploration. They just get naked as quickly as possible, kissing unendingly, hands never stopping their search for new skin to explore.

* * *

 

Zach wakes the next morning and can’t remember where he is. To be fair, it’s not the first time he’s woken up like that, but it’s the first time he’s done it sober. He blinks his eyes, fighting off the last stubborn clinging vestiges of sleep, and he looks over at the person beside him.

It takes every ounce of restraint he possesses to keep himself from flipping the fuck out as soon as he recognizes Chris’ sprawled, sleeping form. Everything that happened the night before comes rushing back then: the phone call, the conversation, the crying, the comfort, the kissing, and then the sex…

As quickly and as carefully as he can, Zach removes himself from the bed. He’s filthy, covered with the dried evidence of the night before, but he’s unwilling to risk getting caught in Chris’ shower if Chris wakes up, so he begins pulling his clothes on and hopes he won’t make too much noise.

When his keys, the ones he couldn’t find the night before, fall out of the pocket of his jeans and clatter on Chris’ floor, though, he inwardly sighs and accepts that life is just not meant to be that easy for him.

“Zach?” Chris asks, voice rough with sleep and worry. “Where are you going?”

Zach takes a moment, steps into his pants and fastens them shut, before squaring his shoulders and turning back toward Chris.

“I have a meeting this morning and I need to head home to shower and change,” he says, voice magically devoid of any of the panic and weirdness he’s feeling. “You’ve got that meeting you were talking about in a few hours too.”

“Right,” Chris says, still looking somehow betrayed.

Zach walks over to Chris’ side of the bed and says, “We should have dinner tonight though. Are you free?”

Chris blinks. “Um, yeah,” he says. “Sure.”

“Great,” Zach says. Before he can think the better of it, he leans down and presses a kiss to Chris’ forehead. That stupid, affectionate gesture is what got them into this whole mess to begin with. Zach mentally kicks himself as he grabs the rest of his things and leaves Chris’ apartment.

He’s less than five feet away from the building when he takes out his cell and gives Kristen a call.

“No one I know calls at this hour,” she growls into the phone.

The sound almost makes Zach feel better. His heart is still dancing a reel in his chest though.

“Chris got a call from Beau last night, so I went over to talk to him and comfort him, and before I knew what was going on, one thing led to another, and we had sex.” Zach stumbles through the words as fast as he can, breathing labored.

“You slept with Chris?” Kristen asks, much more alert.

* * *

 

Chris can hear Dax stumbling through his house, always the epitome of grace, before he replies to what Chris has just told him.

“You and Zach finally slept together?” he asks.

“Yeah, we did,” Chris affirms.

“That’s great!” Dax exclaims.

* * *

 

“I’ve been saying you should do it for ages, you know that,” Kristen says. “I can’t believe it finally happened though.”

“Yeah well…” Zach trails off.

“How was it?” Kristen asks.

* * *

 

“I thought it was good,” Chris says to Dax. “I mean, it was good. It felt _really_ good. But then when I woke up this morning he was running out the door.”

* * *

 

“I panicked,” Zach says. “I don’t know how it happened, but I just completely panicked. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”

“That’s awful,” Kristen says, sounding truly upset.

* * *

 

“The fucking worst,” Dax swears. Chris can’t believe how invested he sounds in the whole thing.

“He wants to have dinner later,” Chris tells him.

“Fucking seriously?” Dax asks.

“Yeah,” Chris says.

* * *

 

“I think I just need to tell him at dinner what a mistake it was,” Zach tells Kristen.

She hums and says, voice sad, “Maybe that would be best. I mean. You gave it a shot, right? There’s no reason you can’t still be friends.”

* * *

 

“I don’t know how we can go forward from here,” Chris admits.

“I mean, fuck,” Dax says, sighing voice muffled. Chris can picture the way he’s probably rubbing his hand over his face. “That’s the fucking worst, Chris. I’m really sorry.”

“Me too,” he says.

“Can’t you maybe just call it a mistake and try to move on?” Dax asks. “You guys are best friends.”

He sounds so wistful, it makes Chris’ heart ache more than it already did.

“I mean, we could try,” Chris tells him.

He doesn’t want to lose Zach. He knows Zach really is one of the best friends he’s ever had. But this. This is a complete game-changer.

“I’ll just say it was a mistake,” Chris decides.

* * *

 

Kristen sighs, “You can definitely get past mistakes.”

Zach nods even though she can’t see it.

“I just hope he says it first,” Zach admits.

Kristen hums in response.

* * *

 

“I hope I say it first,” Chris tells Dax.

Dax heaves another giant sigh. “Good luck, buddy. Let me know if you need me.”

* * *

 

The waiter seats them at their usual table in their usual place and they take their time settling into their usual seats. So far the only thing they’ve said to one another since arriving was hello and a little small talk about how the day went. The air around them feels awkward and wrong.

Chris heaves a sigh, can feel the tension shift, and he blurts out, “Last night was a mistake.”

He winces, keeps his eyes averted from Zach’s, and waits for his response.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Zach sighs.

The relief in his voice makes something deep inside of Chris ache. He looks up and catches Zach’s eyes, watches them widen.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Zach says. “It was great.”

Chris swallows and nods a little.

“We just never should’ve gone there,” Zach says.

“No,” Chris says. _I guess not_ goes unsaid.

The waiter brings their usual orders then and they stop talking. They don’t really start again for the rest of the meal. Not about what happened. Not about anything more than the quality of the food they’re eating. By the time the meal ends, Chris can’t tell what’s felt like more of a blow: the ache of all the things they haven’t really acknowledged or said, or the emptiness of everything they did say.


	7. I Guess He’s Not For Me

“It was just too late,” Zach says.

He’s out to lunch with Kristen and his brother, Joe, and both are barely paying attention to him, focusing more on the bistro’s lunch menu than on Zach’s words. It doesn’t deter Zach in the slightest though.

“I mean,” he says, swirling the straw in his water glass, “when I sleep with a guy we usually share stupid stories after, get to know one another…”

This gets Kristen’s attention. She exchanges a look with Joe before staring Zach down over the rims of her sunglasses, giving him her best _who the fuck are you kidding here?_ face.

“How often do you even stick around long enough after a hook up to get to know the guy’s last name?” Joe asks.

“Ouch,” he hisses, mostly feigning a hurt expression. They’re not wrong and they both know it, which is why neither backs down when Zach flashes them a slightly betrayed look.

“Fine,” he says. “Not as often as I should. But that only made this experience even worse.”

Kristen hums and turns back toward the menu. Joe just shakes his head. The waitress comes for their orders and Zach waits until she leaves to start talking about it again.

“It’s just, I think we’ve known one another too long. Chris and I,” he explains. “And we certainly know one another too well.”

Kristen hums again, swirling her own straw now. One glance at Joe and Zach can tell he’s stuck between reluctantly agreeing with him and telling him he’s a moron. Zach’s irrationally grateful that he doesn’t say anything out loud, though. So grateful that he drops the topic as soon as their food arrives.

* * *

 

“What do you think of this one?” Dax asks.

Chris absently looks over at the jewelry counter and nods. “It’s nice,” he says.

Dax huffs and shakes his head at the jeweler before pointing to another display and asking to see it.

“You know, I asked you along to give me some help here,” Dax says when the jeweler steps away. “You get that, right?”

Chris blinks. “Right,” he says. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Dax softens a little and nods. “It’s alright, man.”

Chris takes a deep breath and sighs it out, looking around the jewelry store for the first time since they entered it half an hour ago. It’s amazing that they’re here at all. In the grand scheme of things, Dax and Kristen haven’t been together that long. Dax has changed though. Patrick commented on it to Chris the last time they got together – when they went bowling last week. Dax is basically a whole new person. A better version of himself. It’s actually really good.

Chris certainly can’t fault him for intending to propose to Kristen as soon as possible.

“Have you spoken to Zach at all?” Dax asks, voice quiet.

Chris looks at him, startled, before schooling his features into a mask of nonchalance.

“No,” he replies, like it’s no big deal.

He can see that Dax knows just how big of a deal it is, especially because Chris adopts that tone. They’ve known one another way too long to get away with that kind of shit.

“Have you spoken to him?” Chris asks, deflating a little.

Dax nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Kristen had him over for dinner the other night, actually. Engagement party things to discuss.”

Chris nods. Of course. Dax had warned him when he told him that he and Kristen were discussing marriage and getting engaged that both Zach and he would be expected to be involved. Just because Zach and he slept together the week before, and just because they hadn’t seen or spoken to one another since, didn’t mean they would be released from their obligations as friends of the soon- to- be wedded pair. Dax had said that he and Kristen understood it could be awkward, but, as their best friends, they had obligations that had to come before comfort. Chris had bristled at the idea that he would ever let something get in the way of his friendship with Dax, but he’d also conceded that the conversation wasn’t unwarranted.

“Is he bringing someone to the party?” Chris asks.

Dax shrugs, turning his attention back toward the new display of rings the jeweler arrived with. “I don’t think so.”

“Is he dating anyone?” Chris asks, taking a step closer to the jewelry counter.

“He was seeing some musical theater kid,” Dax says. “Emphasis on the _kid_ part. The guy was _young_. But, whatever. I don’t think it was serious or anything.”

Chris hums and looks, unseeing, at the rings Dax’s eyes are glued to.

“What do you think of this one?” Dax asks, holding it up for Chris to look at.

Chris manages to focus his attentions away from himself a moment to take in the cut and size of the ring. It’s classic Hollywood. Elegant but not understated. It makes Chris think of Kristen with tight, 50’s curls and bright red lipstick. He can’t help smiling.

“I think that’s the one,” he says.

When he looks at Dax, Dax is looking back at him, drinking in Chris’ reaction. Chris isn’t even embarrassed as he feels his eyes water.

“She’ll love it,” he assures his friend.

Dax smiles, wider than Chris has ever seen him smile, and he turns to the jeweler. “I’ll take it.”

* * *

 

“It’s amazing,” Patrick says on a laugh. He’s sidled up beside Chris, leaning against the wall, watching Kristen and Dax dance like fools at their own engagement party. “I mean, they didn’t even know one another until a few months ago. Now look at them.”

“Yeah,” Chris agrees. He can hear the bittersweet undertone in that one word, and he tries to brush it off by smiling extra wide.

“Patrick,” Troian sing-songs as she approaches. She beckons him to her with a crooked finger and a sly grin.

Patrick can’t refuse her under normal circumstances. Surrounded by such a happy celebration, he certainly has no hope of denying her whatever she wants. He gives Chris an apologetic little shrug before leaving him alone so he can go dance with his better half. Chris laughs at them.

“Hi, Chris.”

Chris’ laughter dies away as soon as Zach speaks. Chris barely spares him a glance as he steps into Patrick’s previous spot beside him.

“How are you doing?” he asks. He keeps the words quiet, personal. The sheer intimacy of the situation makes Chris shiver unpleasantly.

“I’m fine,” he says, voice cold.

“Are you here with anyone?” Zach asks. Chris knows enough about Zach’s various tones of voice to know that he’s shooting for nonchalance with that question but missing the mark by at least ten miles. Chris steps away from him.

“I can’t do this right now,” Chris tells him, eyes darting for a way out.

“Why not?” Zach asks, sounding frustrated. “Is this going to hang over our heads forever now?”

“It’s been two weeks!” Chris exclaims, drawing the attentions of a few guests nearby.

He heaves a sigh and motions for Zach to follow him as he makes a beeline for the terrace out back. It’s unseasonably cool out, so everyone else is inside. They’ll have some privacy to air whatever Zach can’t wait to say out there.

Chris rounds on him as soon as they’re alone, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s aware that the posture is defensive, but he’s past caring.

“What do you need to say so badly that you’re willing to ruin tonight for Dax and Kristen?” Chris asks.

The words hit home and Zach flinches a little. “I’m not planning on ruining anything,” he says. “I just want some explanation. Some _resolution_.”

“What’s there possibly to resolve, Zach?” Chris asks, angry. “We fucked and you decided it meant nothing—”

“Not nothing,” Zach interrupts, voice harder than a moment ago as he narrows his eyes. “I just don’t understand why it has to mean _everything_.”

“Because it does!”

They’re the hardest, most honest words Chris has ever said. He regrets them as soon as they leave his mouth.

“Fine!” Zach snaps back. “But I didn’t show up at your apartment intending to sleep with you, Chris. I didn’t go there that night to _fuck you_ , as you so eloquently put it. I went there because you were hurting and you needed me. That’s what friends do.”

The words strike a nerve in Chris, deep inside, and make him almost want to apologize for the way he’s felt since. Zach keeps speaking though, and that impulse is lost.

“You kept looking at me with those pathetic eyes, though. Pouring your pain out and begging for comfort. I could hardly say no to you.”

“What are you saying?” Chris asks, outrage and shame swelling inside him. “That you took pity on me?”

“Yes!” Zach shouts.

“Fuck you, Quinto!” Chris snarls before slapping Zach across the face with all the force he can muster. It’s probably the most ridiculous thing he’s ever done, a punch certainly would have been a more obvious choice, but the sting on his palm feels incredible.

He walks away before Zach can reply, leaving him to collect his thoughts and his dignity, and he rejoins the party. Zach doesn’t take as long as Chris thought he would to follow him. Chris can see he has something else to say, something more to add to their fight, but Kristen and Dax quiet the crowd and raise their glasses in a toast.

“We just need to take a moment,” Kristen says, “to thank the people who really are responsible for tonight.”

“Yeah,” Dax agrees, smiling widely. “We need to give a little credit where credit is due. So, to Chris and Zach...”

“If either Dax or I had found Chris or Zach even remotely attractive,” Kristen says to much laughter and hooting. “Tonight may not have happened.”

Dax grins and holds up his water higher.

“To Chris and Zach,” he says.

Everyone else in attendance follows suit. Chris can feel himself blushing, and he doesn’t even have to hazard a glance in Zach’s direction to know he’s doing the same.

* * *

 

Zach’s phone buzzes with the receipt of a text, and he can’t move fast enough to check it out.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” Joe asks as he watches the comedic scramble. He’s been going out of his way to see Zach more these past few days. He claims it’s because they’ll both be heading out on the Trek press tour soon, but Zach knows it has more to do with Joe wanting to help fill Zach’s suddenly empty social calendar a little so he can’t wallow too much.

Zach ignores his question and wakes his phone’s touch screen. He deflates when he sees that it’s just Zoe.

_One more week_. _You ready?_

He heaves a sigh before swiping the screen and typing back a _you bet. :-)_

When he looks up again, Joe is shaking his head at him.

“What?” Zach asks, tone more biting than Joe deserves.

“You’re pathetic, little brother,” Joe tells him, matter-of-fact.

Zach scowls but doesn’t insult either of them by pretending he doesn’t know what Joe’s talking about.

“I prefer to think of myself as optimistic,” he says.

Joe laughs and Zach can’t help smiling a little even though he knows he’s being mocked. Joe always reminds him of their mom when he laughs.

“You’re an idiot if you think he’s ever going to call or text or reach out to you after what you did,” Joe tells him.

“What _I_ did?” Zach asks, incredulous. “What about what he did?”

“I love you, Zach,” Joe says. “I always will. You know that. But I’ve known you too well and for too long to ever believe the blame for this mess could fall on anyone other than you.”

Zach huffs, but he doesn’t bother refuting Joe’s allegation. Joe squeezes the scruff of Zach’s neck in his hand and shakes him a little, like he’s done since they were kids.

“You’re gonna be in for a world of awkward pain in a week, Zee. A world of awkward pain,” Joe says. “And I can’t even say you don’t deserve it.”

Zach sighs. “Gee,” he mumbles, “with family like you, who needs enemies…”

Joe just laughs again before kissing Zach’s temple and turning back to the movie they were watching.

* * *

 

“How long has it been, exactly now?” Patrick asks.

Troian’s out of town, filming some movie, and Chris is sitting on her and Patrick’s couch, drowning in vodka while Titanic plays, not-exactly-forgotten, on the television screen.

“Almost two and a half weeks. Less than that,” Chris says. He won’t get any more specific, even though they both know he can. He feels pathetic enough as it is.

Patrick hums and Chris knows he wants to say something.

“What?” he prompts.

“Nothing,” Patrick assures him.

Chris shakes his head. “It’s not nothing,” he says. “If it was nothing, you would never have made that _I-have-something-to-say-but-I-know-you-won’t-like-to-hear-it_ humming sound you always make when you have something to say but you know the person won’t like to hear it.”

Patrick chuckles. “You either haven’t had enough to drink yet or you’ve had way too much. I can’t tell. Either way, you’re right.”

Chris nods before saying, “So spill it.”

Patrick takes a deep breath and releases the air slowly. “I’ve known you for a long time now, Chris,” he starts. “A _long_ time. Dax has too. And neither of us has ever seen you this upset over someone. Not over Beau. Not even over Paul…”

Chris shifts in his seat, becoming more uncomfortable with each word. Patrick rushes on before he can be stopped though.

“Zach means more to you than anyone else. A stranger could see that, especially right now,” he says. “Are you sure you’re willing to throw all of that away – everything you two had going for you before that horror of a night together – just because he was an asshole after sleeping with you, when you already know his track record with men?”

Chris knows he’s fidgeting. He knows he’s fidgeting, and he knows Patrick is watching him as he fidgets, even though he can’t bring himself to look anywhere other than at the tumbler of clear liquor in his hands.

“I…” he starts to respond, but the words get stuck in this throat, like they’re coated in tar. He chokes a little, scrunching his face as he fights against the sharp burn of threatening tears. “Could you stand it?” he finally manages to get out. “If Troian did what Zach did, could you stand it?”

Patrick sighs beside him. In his peripheral vision, Chris sees him discard his glass on the table before taking Chris’ and placing it off to the side as well.

“Come here,” he mumbles, words stirring Chris’ hair, before he wraps himself around Chris and pulls him into a comforting, cuddling embrace.

Chris snorts a little, self-deprecatingly, as he allows himself to be coddled.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick says, words pressed into Chris’ scalp.

Chris stares at the television, watches Jack and Rose cling desperately to one another, one last time, before he closes his own eyes and sighs. “Yeah, me too.”


	8. With All Your Faults I Love You Still

Chris has barely made it through security at LAX when his phone starts ringing. It’s that stupid song, the one Zach insisted they sing together in the store, before everything went to hell. Chris looks at Zach’s picture on the display, just for a moment, before he pockets the device again.

He’s heading out to Sydney, the first stop on the Trek Press Tour, and he’s hoping against all hope that he won’t actually have to deal with Zach, face-to-face, until they’re surrounded by Paramount’s and J.J.’s people, plus the rest of their cast mates. Chris needs buffers at this point. It’s been another week and a half, and he’s feeling just as emotionally raw as he was when he let Patrick snuggle him.

He makes it to the departure gate before his phone rings again. He ignores the sound and refuses to bop to the beat of that infuriating song. When the phone quiets, he takes it out of his pocket to give it a look.

He has not two but three voicemails from Zach. Apparently he missed one in the car earlier. His finger hovers above the screen a moment before he decides to press play.

_“Hi, it’s me. I really think we should talk. Preferably before we’re surrounded by other people. Okay. Just. Give me a call…”_

Chris sighs and listens to the second message.

“ _Hey. It’s me again. I’m on my way to the airport. We’re supposed to be on the same plane, remember? I really think we should talk before then. I really want to speak with you. Give me a call back, okay? Bye.”_

Chris’ breath hitches as he hears his name being called. It’s Zach’s voice, magnified and in person, not muffled by technology. He quickly puts his phone to sleep and shoves it in his pocket as he looks up to see Zach and his brother, Joe, approaching.

“Chris, you’re here,” Zach says. He looks almost relieved. Like he wasn’t sure Chris would still get on the plane for their press tour or something. Chris bristles at the thought.

“Hey, Chris,” Joe says. He’s steadier, more appropriately detached in his tone. It makes Zach’s greeting sound downright desperate in comparison, and Chris stands a little taller, more fortified than he felt a minute before.

“Hi, Joe,” Chris says, convivial. His tone is colder when he greets Zach, and he can see Zach flinch away slightly.

Chris is saved from exchanging any other forced pleasantries when John arrives. He’s taking the same flight as they are, and it starts boarding as soon as he finishes saying hello.

When Chris boards, he makes sure to take a seat as far from Zach as he can, somehow positioning both John and Joe between them. When he’s situated in his seat, he takes out his headphones, puts on some smooth jazz, closes his eyes, and wills himself to fall asleep. The flight is going to be almost 15 hours, and he’s planning on sleeping for most of it.

He can feel Zach’s eyes on him though, like a physical touch. It reminds him of a certain other trip they took, trapped in an old car and arguing all the way. He squeezes his eyes shut a little tighter, fighting against the burn of tears that threatens to overwhelm him at the memory. He’ll get a glass of wine and pop an antihistamine as soon as they’re in the air. He’ll definitely knock out then.

* * *

 

“We’ve been touring for four days already, and he hasn’t said one word to me outside of an interview,” Zach says, throwing his hat across the hotel room.

“Are you really shocked?” Joe asks.

“Yeah, I am,” Zach says, getting louder by the second.

Joe and Karl exchange looks and he considers kicking them both out of his room.

“I know it’s not something you probably want to hear right now,” Karl says. It’s the first time he’s spoken up about any of this—he seemed to prefer to keep his thoughts to himself up until this point—and Zach’s actually eager to hear what he has to say. “But I knew Chris was a good actor before. I really believed he had talent. I just didn’t realize how incredible he could be until I saw some of these interviews.”

Joe hums in agreement, and Zach wishes he could go retrieve his hat so he could throw it again, in their direction this time. He doesn’t have the energy to do so though.

“This is getting ridiculous!” he exclaims.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Karl clarifies. “I’m in agreement about that, completely. I don’t think I can handle much more of the ice between you two. I just can’t deny how effortlessly he’s performed, fooling everyone publicly the last few days.”

Zach lets out a strangled kind of sound and collapses on his back on his bed.

“I’ve tried a trillion times to talk things through with him, but he keeps shutting me down,” he says. “I think it’s time I stopped being an ass. I don’t want to make a complete fool of myself after all.”

* * *

 

It’s their last night in New Zealand, and Chris is ready to drown some sorrows. John is keeping close by him – verging on hovering – and Chris is losing his ability to pretend he doesn’t notice. He does notice. He’s noticed since they landed. He welcomed it then. It’s starting to feel a little suffocating as the days drag on.

“Karl,” Chris asks when their last interview is finished. “Take us to your favorite bar?”

It’s phrased as a question, but it’s more of a plea. Chris is pretty sure Karl recognizes that fact because he only takes a second to nod.

“Yes, great,” he says. “We’ll head out in an hour.”

They’re all staying in the same hotel, even Karl, though he could sleep at home if he really wanted. The nearness is a way to keep track of them all, though. It makes Paramount feel better. Unfortunately, for Chris, it means Zach is with everyone else when they all meet up to head out.

No one’s said anything to him about this abyss that’s obviously grown between them, either because they’re all giving them some privacy to handle their issues, or because they just don’t want to get involved. Chris isn’t sure. He is sure that John and Karl both shoot him apologetic looks when he approaches their group, though. Chris just squares his shoulders, straightens his back, and nods for Karl to lead the way.

* * *

 

“This probably isn’t the healthiest of coping mechanisms,” Chris slurs in John’s ear later that evening.

John shakes his head, and Chris resists the urge to nuzzle his face into John’s neck.

“It’s not the worst coping mechanism though,” John assures him. “Not yet, anyway.”

Chris huffs out a half-sigh, half-laugh.

“I need more whiskey,” he says before pushing off of John to head, unsteadily, for the bar.

“What’re you drinking?”

Chris looks at the guy next to him, and is shocked to realize he’s looking right back at him. It takes his foggy brain a moment to realize that question was directed at him.

“Jack,” Chris tells him. “Straight.”

The guy grins, white teeth gleaming. He reminds Chris of a shark.

“Let me buy your next drink?” he asks.

Chris vaguely remembers something Karl said earlier about drinking conventions down under as opposed to conventions in the US. A drink offer is a serious pass or something. Even without that bit of knowledge, this stranger’s eyes make his intentions fairly obvious: he wants to fuck Chris. Chris gives him a once-over, takes in the short, sandy hair, the dimple in his left cheek, and the warmth of his hazel eyes. He’s certainly handsome. And his hands are huge. Despite the warmth of the liquor already flowing through his veins, dulling Chris’ senses, he feels his cock twitch with interest.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, giving the guy a sloppy grin.

* * *

 

“I need to talk to him,” Zach announces, voice full of conviction, fueled by liquid courage.

“I really don’t think that’s the best idea,” Karl says.

“What happened to not making a fool of yourself over him any longer?” Joe asks.

Zach just waves them both off. This situation isn’t working for him. Not that it ever did. But now, filled with vodka, it’s working for him even less.

“I just need to help him see how much this sucks,” he announces to the group.

Joe sighs but doesn’t push back any more. He may be Zach’s older brother, but he’s always given Zach the space to make whatever messes he needs to make. Zach has always loved him extra for that.

John approaches the table then and Zach reaches for him immediately.

“John,” he says. “Where is Chris? I need to talk to him.”

“I don’t really think now is the best time,” John says.

Zach frowns. “Now is the only time.”

“No, Zach,” John says, voice firm but gentle, “It’s really not.”

Karl shifts uncomfortably and Zach feels his frustration build as he wonders what they’re talking about, what he’s not understanding. He catches John darting his eyes past his shoulder and he turns around a little too quickly to see what the problem is and why they’re being so cagey about Chris. He’s met with an eyeful of Chris making out with some random local, pressed close together in the back of the bar. Zach’s heart drops as he sees them inching closer to the labeled restroom.

Just like that, his buzz is gone.

He clears his throat and swallows thickly before turning back to his friends.

“I’m gonna go back to the hotel and pack before the flight tomorrow,” he says.

He sounds weird to his own ears. If his friends’ and brother’s expressions are any indication, he sounds weird to them too. He doesn’t stick around to let them reply though. He doesn’t even stick around long enough for Joe to grab his things and follow behind him. He just books it out of there, gets a cab, and replays that image of Chris and that guy on repeat in his head, eyes closed, the entire way back to the hotel.

* * *

 

A couple of nights later, Zach steps into the elevator car of their hotel in Kuwait to head up to his room for the night. It’s early. Much earlier than when he’d usually call it a night, but he’s exhausted and drained and ready to just be alone.

Fate, apparently, has other plans.

Just before the doors to the elevator close, a hand darts between them and they open again. Chris enters the car, smiling at his phone, and hits the button for his floor. He doesn’t realize who he’s trapping himself with until the doors are already shut and they’re moving though. That’s when he finally glances over at Zach.

“Hi, Chris,” Zach says, voice calculated and even.

Chris visibly swallows, the smile fading from his face as he lowers his phone.

“You heading out tonight?” Zach asks.

Chris works his jaw a moment as he thinks how to answer. “Yeah, I am,” he says.

Zach bristles before warning, “Just be careful.”

Chris shifts on his feet and narrows his eyes into a soft scowl.

“I can take care of myself, thanks,” he says. There’s absolutely no real gratitude in the statement.

“Can you?” Zach asks. He knows it’s the wrong thing to say as soon as it leaves his mouth.

“You don’t get to do this anymore, Zach,” Chris says, brazenly crowding into Zach’s space.

Zach is shocked, completely taken aback by the action. He just looks Chris over a moment as his tired brain tries to catch up to what’s happening.

“Chris,” he starts to say, but Chris cuts him off.

“Forget it,” he warns. Zach shuts his mouth.

They arrive at Chris’ floor then and Chris sweeps out of the elevator with a softly spoken, “Goodbye, Zach.”

There’s something terrifyingly final about the words and their tone that makes Zach lurch forward, intending to follow him. The doors close before he can even call after Chris, though. He goes to his own room for the night, resigned.

* * *

 

It’s amazing how skipping through so many cities across the world, in such a short amount of time, can still feel so drawn out. By the time they reach Paris, though, Zach is convinced this tour is never going to end. The last time Zach was in Paris, he was celebrating his birthday and waiting to hear good news about whether he’d been cast in Trek. Now, however, he’s sitting in his hotel room, drinking mini-bar cocktails by himself, eating a package of macaroons from the bakery down the street, and watching Titanic in German.

Everyone else from the cast is out at Le Baron, the bar he couldn’t stop raving about to Chris and Zoe when they found out they would be stopping in Paris as part of the tour. Zoe practically begged him to come along, but Zach declined. Chris is there. Probably dancing with someone, or doing more, even. There’s only so much of that he can stand to watch.

Zach cringes as Jack and Rose kiss.

* * *

 

Chris is flirting with some couple – a sweet Italian girl and her American boyfriend – dancing and drinking and keeping an eye on the clock all the while. That night in New Zealand was an aberration. He’d made out with the guy in the bathroom, he’d even exchanged hand jobs in a too-small stall, but he’d felt even more like shit the next morning than he’d felt when he’d been doing nothing but wallowing. Now, he just flirts and dances and drinks before heading home alone. He’s not really feeling into the whole game tonight, though.

Here, in Paris, at the club Zach loves. It’s full of too many memories, and he’s never even been here before.

He buys the couple another round of drinks, but excuses himself from their company and goes to find John or Zoe. He’s going to head back to the hotel and get some sleep before their day of press tomorrow.

* * *

 

“This is much better than going out,” Zach mumbles to himself.

A change of venue was in order, and he finds himself wandering the streets of this city he loves, following along the Seine. If he wasn’t so weighed down with his loneliness, it would actually be a nice night. As it stands, he buries his fingers into his pockets, shrugs his shoulders up a little, and thinks on how his life came to this.

Not a day has gone by since they slept together when Zach hasn’t thought of Chris.

_Not a day._

Zach thinks of him all day long, actually. He thinks of how much he misses him. How much better things were before. How horribly things have crumbled since. How he played a role in what’s happened to them – a not-insignificant role. How Chris has played a role too, though not one he can completely fault him for. Joe was right before: this is Zach’s mess. Chris may refuse to let things go back to the way they had been before the sex, but Zach put him in the position to make that refusal. Zach made him feel like a pitiful, used, piece of shit.

Zach looks at the people on the street around him now, walking in groups, walking in pairs. He watches one couple stop in front of the Louvre to take a selfie – two women, fingers laced together, laughing as they share a sweet kiss.

He flexes his fingers at his side, recognizing how empty he feels as he watches their happiness. Memories play through his head like a movie reel:

> _“Of course, you know, queer guys can never really be_ friends. _”_
> 
> _“That’s fucking bullshit, of course they can be. I have plenty of other queer, male friends.”_
> 
> _“You can’t be friends because the sex is always out there, it’s always in the way.”_
> 
> _“Are you saying I’m having sex with these people even though I don’t realize it?”_
> 
> _“No no no, of course not. What I’m saying is the sex thing is out there. They’ve thought about it, maybe you’ve thought about it, and, come on, let’s be real, you’re a kind of Adonis in your own All-American way, so there’s no way they ever stop thinking about it. So the sex thing is always an issue then. They always want to fuck you, Chris. And that precludes any true friendship from really being formed in the first place.”_
> 
> _“Well, I guess we won’t be friends then.”_
> 
> _“Nope.”_
> 
> _“That’s too bad. We live so close together, we could have had some fun.”_

The ache in Zach’s chest swells so big it almost chokes him. He starts moving forward again, the couple taking selfies forgotten, as he picks up speed with each step until he’s running.

* * *

 

“Hey, I’m going to head back to the hotel,” Chris says, leaning into John and Zoe’s shared space so they can hear him better.

“Are you sure?” Zoe asks. She gives him the same concerned look she’s been giving him since she met up with the rest of them in Europe.

John’s look, no less concerned, is also relieved.

“Good idea,” he says with a nod.

Chris knows just how disapproving John’s been over his recent actions. Not because he judges Chris, but because he worries. Chris reaches out and gives his arm a quick squeeze as he offers him a tired smile.

“Don’t stay out too late yourselves, okay?” he says.

They both smile back at him, and Chris steps away, making his way toward the exit.

* * *

 

Zach’s in shape, he’s used to running even, but he’s still winded when he reaches the front of the club. It should be about a thirty-minute walk from the Louvre to here, but he’d had urgency on his side, and he made it a lot more quickly than a car could have gotten him there in the traffic he’d passed by.

He sees Chris on the sidewalk hailing a cab just before he throws himself at the entrance of the club.

“Chris!” he calls.

Chris turns just as a cab pulls up to the curb.

“Zach?” he asks, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for you,” Zach says, fighting to even out his breathing.

Chris’ surprised, open expression shuts down, and his features become stony as he shifts on his feet.

“I think we’ve said everything there is to say,” he says.

Zach shakes his head vehemently. “No, we haven’t,” he assures him. “ _I_ haven’t.”

Chris doesn’t reply. He just shifts his weight again and waits. The cab pulls away from the curb and picks up someone else a few feet over.

“I’ve been thinking a lot, Chris. About my life, about you. About you in my life. And the thing is, I love you. I’m in love with you,” Zach says.

An array of emotions flit across Chris’ features as those words settle between them. He licks his lips and blinks, nervous, as he folds his arms defensively across his chest.

“How exactly do you expect me to respond to that?” Chris asks, voice rough.

“How about you say you love me too,” Zach instructs.

Chris just shakes his head. “How about I’m leaving.”

He tries to step around Zach, to go hail another cab, but Zach sidesteps in front of him again.

“Doesn’t what I just said mean anything to you?” Zach asks, a measure of desperation seeping into his tone.

“I’m sorry, Zach,” Chris says, shaking his head again. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so lonely. I’m sorry you’re feeling swept up by the romanticism of Paris. I’m sorry your life isn’t looking as perfect right now as you may have imagined it would look. But you can’t just chase me down, tell me you love me, and expect everything to be fixed. It doesn’t work like that.”

“Well, how does it work?” Zach asks, frustrated as he drags his hand through his hair.

“Not like this,” Chris insists and turns away.

Zach reaches out to him, unable to let Chris slip away from him again. He squeezes his arm, firm but gentle, and urges Chris to face him again.

“How about this then,” he says. “I love that you get cold when it’s seventy-one degrees outside. I love the way you lick your lips when you get flustered or nervous and the way you shuffle your feet when you get uncomfortable. I love the way you hold your insecurities close to your chest, cover them up with bright smiles and deflective lines, but still let me see the real you even when others aren’t afforded the privilege. And I love that you’re the first person I want to speak to every morning, and, even after spending an entire day with you, you’re still the last person I text each night before bed… And it’s not because I’m lonely, Chris, and it’s not because we’re in Paris. I’m here right now because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

Chris huffs out a half sob, filled with frustration, and Zach watches tears escape across his cheeks.

“You see. You see, that’s just like you Zach. You say things like that and make it impossible for me to hate you…” he exclaims, voice crescendoing on the last words before fading on the next, “And I hate you, Zach. I really hate you.”

They both stand there, on a Parisian sidewalk, surrounded by the sounds of the city, people bustling by late at night, and Zach can see everything laid bare in Chris’ eyes. He’s pretty sure Chris can see the same in his.

“I hate you,” Chris says, voice barely a whisper.

Zach reaches for him at the same time Chris leans forward, and they’re kissing before either of them can say another word. It feels like a weight has been lifted from Zach’s chest when they part. Like things have slid back into the places they belong again, fitting better now than they’re ever fit before.


	9. Epilogue: It Had to Be You

“You’re probably two of the most eligible bachelors in Hollywood,” the interviewer says to them.

Chris shakes his head a little. “No, not probably,” he corrects her, “ _The._ ”

“Oh,” she says. Zach has to stifle a laugh, though he can’t stop himself from smiling. He leans a little closer to Chris, bumping him a little with his shoulder, and watches a smile flash across his face before he schools his features again.

“The,” she amends. She sputters a little over her words in the wake of that brazen response before she asks, “Let’s get details. Are you dating?”

She means are they dating other people – women, specifically – not are they dating one another. But Zach shoots Chris a secret look before deciding to go with the best answer he can.

“Yeah, no.”

“Maybe.”

“No.”

“I don’t know.”

“Yessss.”

“Sure.”

“No.”

They both dissolve into laughter then, and the interviewer has to pause filming before she can get to her next question. They apologize, giggling the whole time, and she forgives them their mirth, assuring them they’ll edit the footage later anyway before they share it with the world.

* * *

 

When the two of them are alone later, safely locked away from prying eyes and media hounds, Chris leans into Zach and asks the same question:

“So, Zach. Are we dating?” He hums a little, licks his lips coyly, and waits for a response.

Zach steps in close to him, chest-to-chest, before he hums in response. “I can only speak for myself, but I can assure you that I’m definitely dating right now. The love of my life, as a matter-of-fact.”

“Is that so?” Chris asks, voice suddenly soft, all coyness gone.

“Yeah, it really is,” Zach says. They’re both still surprised at how unwavering his conviction is about that fact. After all, it took so long to reach this point.

It’s hard, sometimes, to reconcile their renewed familiarity with the idea that they almost stopped speaking entirely a few days ago. They’ve spoken a lot since their Parisian reconciliation, though. They’ve also done their share of _not_ speaking, something neither one can quite stop grinning about.

It’s been a whirlwind of emotions and Chris wouldn’t trade any of it for anything.

“I love you, too,” he says on a rush of breath, their mouths hovering close together, on the path to collision. When they kiss, a firm press of greedy smiles, it sends the same electric thrill through their bodies as that kiss on the streets of Paris did. Chris presses himself closer to Zach, leaning into the welcome embrace of his open arms and the heat of that kiss. It feels like home, something Chris hasn’t had the courage to say out loud yet. If the way Zach pulls him in ever closer is any indication, though, Chris imagines it’s pretty safe to say he feels the same way too.


End file.
